


How Far Do We Have to Fall?

by aschuylersister



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Ambassador Nico, Annabeth is Princess of Athens, Bard Will, Bodyguard Thalia, Centurions Frank and Hazel, F/F, F/M, Former Emperor Gabriel (Gabe Ugliano in this AU), Handmaiden Piper, I think I'm funny, Love, M/M, Octavian is still the bane of my existence, Percy is Emperor of Rome, Pontifex Maximus Octavian, Praetors Reyna and Jason, Romance, Ship captain Leo, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, They're all still demigods though, War, all that fun stuff, and Percy's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aschuylersister/pseuds/aschuylersister
Summary: At seventeen, Caesar Perseus is the most powerful teenager in the world. He is the emperor of Rome, and has been ever since the recent murder of his father Caesar Gabriel. But all is not as it seems. Percy is not the true leader of Rome. Percy is at the mercy of Pontifex Maximus Octavian, who has the loyalty of the Senate, but more importantly, secrets that could ruin Percy’s life. To make matters worse, the Senate, on the brink of war with Greece, agree that the only peaceful solution is to arrange a marriage between Percy and a Grecian noblewoman. Percy has no idea how to say no. And he has no idea where to run.At seventeen, Princess Annabeth of Athens should be able to make her own choices. She is the favorite of her father the king, not to mention a demigod, a daughter of Athena. Her beauty and wit have become renowned throughout the world. But the Roman Senate has requested her as the bride of the young Caesar. In no position to turn down an alliance, King Frederick is giving her away gladly. Annabeth has heard of Caesar Perseus, and scorns him for his seeming lack of interest in his people and his position. But she loves her country too much to let it fall into war. And she has no idea where to run either.





	1. Found You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Percy
> 
> In which Percy has lots of secrets and is getting married and his friends wish they could do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just throwing this first chapter out here. If I run with this idea, the entire finished product will end up being pretty long. I love Ancient Greece/Rome AUs, and what better characters to do it with than the PJO characters? I'm definitely working on more and I have lots of ideas. Let me know what you think! I will for sure be putting up Annabeth's first POV chapter soon.  
> ♡ aschuylersister

“Percy!? Percy!?”

Percy was shaking. The wind chilled by the setting sun was _cold_ , and he’d left his cloak with Blackjack, and he wasn’t about to climb down and get it. Reyna’s voice echoed from somewhere in the forest nearby. She was looking for him, which meant Frank and Hazel and Jason and probably most of the Twelfth Legion were looking for him too. Reyna’s voice wasn’t panicked, more exasperated, like she was mad at him for being stupid enough to go missing two weeks before his wedding.

“Percy, I swear on the Styx, if you don’t _climb down from whatever tree you’re in before nightfall_ I will skin you alive.”

Percy laughed as the sky boomed in recognition of the oath. Reyna swore on the Styx carelessly. Reyna _could_ swear on the Styx carelessly. No one was scarier than Reyna. Percy knew he’d have to climb down soon. Skinning him alive would be painful for both of them. But for now, he was going to sit up here and resolutely ignore his best friend.

The leaves in the trees had turned red as the days grew shorter and colder, and they fell to the ground in randomly curling patterns that captivated Percy. They reminded him of something. They reminded him of… Rachel.

_“Don’t send me away, Percy,” she had sobbed, clinging onto his arm. Percy had tried to summon the courage to push her away, but it just hurt to breathe._

_“I can’t do that to you, Rachel,” he had said, his voice flat. “I can’t do that to myself. I can’t do it to either of us.”_

_“I would just be happy being your_ mistress _, Percy,” Rachel had cried. “That would be enough for me. I’m not naive enough to think you could run away with me. But don’t make me leave without you.”_

 _“Oh, Rachel,” Percy had said in a bitter, broken laugh. “You wouldn’t be happy. I_ know _you. Would you be happy watching me sit with her at dinners? Would you happy watching us whisper together in the halls? Would you be happy watching us conduct the Games? Would you be happy watching her have my children? And what if you did get pregnant? Would you be happy raising a child that was an outcast, a bastard, hated by both Octavian and the Empress of Rome? Could you do it Rachel? Could you live like that?”_

_Rachel had let go of his arm, her head bowed and her shoulders racked with sobs. “Percy…”_

Percy howled. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his gladius unsheathed from his belt and he was hacking the tree he sat in to bits, screaming at the tops of his lungs. Severed branches went crashing to the ground, taking those hateful red leaves with them. Percy hacked in a wide arc, until the only branches left on the tree were the ones beyond the reach of his sword and the one he sat on. Chest heaving, he let his sword fall from his hand. It narrowly missed someone’s head on its way down. At the base of the tree, Reyna sat astride her horse Scipio. She was holding Blackjack’s reins with one hand, and she deftly caught the gladius by the hilt with the other. She looked up at Percy with some sympathy.

“Found you,” she said.

Percy began to climb down with some difficulty, considering the fact that he had cut off half of his footholds. “You know,” he said, his voice quiet and spent. “I’m your emperor. I could have you beheaded for threatening to skin me alive.”

“You could,” Reyna agreed. “But you won’t.” Percy’s sandals hit the ground, and Reyna handed him his gladius.

“I won’t,” Percy consented with a sigh. He accepted Blackjack’s reins from Reyna as well.

 _Hey boss_ , the black stallion nickered.

“Hey buddy,” Percy said, his voice still morose. Exactly one person on earth knew that he could understand horses, and her name was Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano. Of course, everyone assumed that he had some kind of water deity heritage from his mother’s side, perhaps a naiad. Because Caesar Gabriel’s lineage had been heavily scrutinized over thousands of years. Anything different would be catastrophic. Percy chuckled bitterly. If only they knew the truth. The truth that Percy wasn’t the true son of the former emperor of Rome. Percy was someone else’s child. And he kept the trident burned on his right forearm covered with leather gauntlets at all times.

“When I found Blackjack I told him that he was being used as part of your running-away-from-the-legion plot, and I may not speak horse but I’m pretty sure he cussed you out,” Reyna said, shifting astride Scipio and looking down at Percy from her post.

Percy rolled his eyes, deftly jumping up onto Blackjack’s back so he was once again eye-level with Reyna. “Where’s Jason?”

Reyna rolled her eyes. “He thought you went that way.” Reyna pointed west. At eighteen, Reyna was only a year older than Percy, but emotionally she may as well have been his mother. Percy sometimes wished that he could hand over the Roman Empire to Reyna’s care. She was a better fighter, a better leader, and a better legionnaire. They had been best friends since they were fourteen, and Percy sometimes thanked his lucky stars that she was praetor and not one of Octavian’s cronies. Jason was a different story, but he listened to Reyna. It was clear that the balance of power shifted in favor of her.

He didn’t like the way Reyna was watching him right now. Her tar black hair was pulled back in a glossy braid, secured by engraved gold bands. The ever-present armor over her crisp white toga was embossed with gold - scenes of war and death and destruction. Her cloak was purple - the mark of someone with a high status. She sat high on Scipio, her back rigid and her muscles tense. The crossed spears of Bellona stood out darkly on her tan forearm. All demigods got a symbol burned into their arm, once they had been claimed by their godly parent. It couldn’t be helped. Reyna had had hers since she was claimed at three years old. She displayed it with pride, unlike Percy. Bellona didn’t have many children. Reyna was the only one that was known. She had shot through the ranks of the legion. She was unmatched when it came to tactical skills. And her tar black eyes were intense, and much too observant for their own good. They were boring into his skull right now.

“What?” he half-growled.

Reyna raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” Percy grumbled. “But you’re thinking something, and that’s basically the same thing.”

Reyna didn’t laugh. “I think you’re overreacting,” she said calmly.

“I’m getting _married_ , Reyna,” Percy snapped. “ _In two weeks_. To a girl I’ve never even met. Or seen. Or heard of. I mean, Athens? It’s the smallest kingdom in Greece at this point. None of the other Greek kingdoms had eligible maidens to send?”

Reyna huffed. “You know how closely allied the Greek kingdoms are. A princess of Athens is essentially a princess of Greece.”

Percy growled. “I still think it’s ridiculous. When Gabe was in charge -”

“Gabe is dead. Now _you_ are in charge,” Reyna interjected. “If you don’t like this marriage, then greet the Greek ship with enough denarii to send them home. Honestly, Percy, you speak like you have no control over this.”

“The Senate voted _unanimously_ ,” Percy ranted. “How am I supposed to circumvent-”

“The _Senate_ is in power because of the _legion_ ,” Reyna argued. “And the _legion_ is headed by _me_ . And _I_ am loyal to you. Not Octavian or the Senate. The people know that the senators are lazy and complacent, and can’t get anything done. They trust you. You hold all the cards here, Percy. If you don’t like this marriage, then tell the Senate to screw off.”

Percy ran his hands through his hair. Even Reyna didn’t know what Octavian knew. Reyna knew about the trident on his arm and all that it meant, just one secret that could burn down his entire life. She was his friend, so she didn’t hold it over his head. Octavian knew the _other_ secret that could burn down his entire life. And Octavian had it nailed over Percy’s head like a death sentence.

And Percy couldn’t tell Reyna that other secret. Because she’d never look at him the same way again.

“You don’t want to go to war,” Percy pleaded, trying one last tactic to convince Reyna of his motives. “You don’t want to lose that many legionnaires. You saw what Sparta did in Macedon, if they came here-”

“My legion can defeat any army, any day, thank you very much,” Reyna said icily. “You know as well as I that a Roman-Greek alliance is only a temporary bandage over the problem. The Senate will be looking to conquer them soon enough, and certainly during your lifetime and that of your Greek bride’s. They just want to buy time to raise more funds. But that’s just politics. If you don’t want to get married, we will just go to war sooner than expected.”

Reyna looked at him so reassuringly, so confidently, that Percy almost caved. How nice would it be to not get married in two weeks? To be able to send for Rachel? The ship that had carried her away to Brittania just yesterday was likely not even a quarter of a way through its journey.

“I-”

“Percy! Percy!” At that moment, Percy was saved from saying something foolish by none other than Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque, who came crashing through the trees at warp speed. Frank was in the middle of morphing back into a human from an eagle, and Hazel sat astride her golden stallion Arion.

“Oh thank goodness,” Hazel breathed, pulling Arion up short. The horse nickered a greeting to Blackjack and Scipio. At only thirteen, Hazel was one of Percy’s best and favorite troops. She had been recruited from a village in Carthage for her excellent horsemanship. She and Arion now headed the alae, or the cavalry division that operated separately from the legion’s normal cohort structure. The alae were some of Reyna’s best soldiers. They went on the furthest and most dangerous missions. And they loved their centurion Hazel. “I’m so glad Reyna found you,” she told Percy. “We were worried.” Hazel’s curly golden hair and eyes to match gleamed warmly in the dying sunlight. She was one of the sweetest people Percy knew. He thought of her as a little sister. Technically, they were cousins, because her father was Hades - a fact that gained her respect in the legion despite the fact that she was from Carthage, a girl, and thirteen. The legion was full of mortal soldiers. Somehow, Percy always ended up hanging out with demigods. Maybe it was because they all seemed to end up in dangerous situations together.

Frank, the only one not on horseback, ran up alongside Hazel. A shapeshifting son of Mars, Frank was sixteen and the centurion of the fifth cohort. Since the other centurions were mostly Octavian’s cronies, Percy and Reyna mostly hung around with Frank and his cohort. Reyna only went into the other cohort barracks when she wanted to strike fear into their hearts and make sure there were no possible rebellions brewing. Because Lord help anyone who tried to rebel out from under _Reyna’s_ command.

Frank’s family were merchants that had immigrated to Rome from the far east, but his father’s status as the god of war had virtually assured Frank a prominent position in the legion. His black hair was cropped short, unlike Percy’s which hung down by his ears. Frank had a very military bearing, similar to Jason (who was still the only one of his friends missing, Percy noted). And he had a _huge_ crush on Hazel, which was obvious to everyone except possibly Frank.

He absentmindedly rubbed Arion’s flank as he talked, his fingers not-so-accidentally brushing Hazel’s leg from time to time. “We’ve been looking for hours. But at least we got here before Jason.”

Hazel grinned. “True. We at least have that friendship one-up.”

As he caught his breath, Frank started to look around. He saw the tree and his eyebrows went up in alarm. “Yikes, Percy. You sure did a number on that tree.”

Hazel’s face didn’t change, but her eyes seemed to liquidate. “Oh, Percy…”

At that moment, Jason flew down from between the treetops, skidding to a stop next to Frank and spooking the horses. His purple praetor’s cloak flew out behind him like a cape. Winds blew in behind him, swirling around his feet and kicking up leaves before Jason released them and they vanished.

“Hey guys. What’d I miss?”

Frank pointed to the tree. “Percy seriously injured some poor dryad, and Reyna found him first.”

Percy’s heart clenched. He hadn’t thought about the poor dryad whose home he just destroyed. The tree was marred. It would take years to heal.

“Damn,” Jason said, snapping his fingers. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone west.”

Reyna rolled her eyes. “That’s what you get for not listening to me.”

A true Roman and a true legionnaire, blonde-haired blue-eyed Jason was co-praetor with Reyna. As a son of Zeus, the only reason he wasn’t a senator was that his mother was a common theater actress. Unlike the Senate, however, the Legion didn’t care who your parents were. If you could fight and fight well, you could advance. Being a demigod with powers didn’t hurt either.

Jason and Reyna had been in a tempestuous, on-again-off-again relationship that was now entering its third summer. The off parts were mostly due to errors on Jason’s end, which was a point of contention in his and Percy’s relationship. Percy was nothing if not fiercely devoted to his best friend.

“So,” Jason said lightly, his tone much too careful for whatever he said next to be surface-level. “I haven't seen you since Reyna told me the news. This wedding really happening?”

Reyna looked at Percy meaningfully. He could practically hear what she was thinking. _It’s not too late. You can back out._

“Yup,” Percy said. “In two weeks.”

Reyna rolled her eyes back into her head and sighed.

Jason awkwardly patted Percy’s sandal. “Sorry, man.”

Hazel huffed, blowing a golden curl out of her eyes. “Are we just going to dance around the obvious forever? Percy’s getting married, and it sucks, and we should do something.”

Percy smiled half-heartedly. “Thanks, Haze.”

Reyna shrugged. “Well, if the girl is horrible, we can definitely scare her into the shadows.”

“She might be nice,” Hazel countered.

Percy sighed. “Let’s just get through the wedding first, yeah? And worry about the rest later?”

“Sure thing,” Frank said helpfully.

Hazel rolled her eyes. “Are we also going to ignore the fact that Percy literally went missing for six hours? Percy, you are _not_ okay.”

Percy shrugged. “Who says I have to be okay? I’m coming back to the palace now. No more disappearances, I promise.”

Hazel looked at him with a creased brow. “We’re worried about you, Percy.”

“Yeah,” Jason affirmed. “You haven’t been acting like yourself lately. Not since Caesar Gabriel died.”

“He lost his father, Jason,” Hazel shot back. “Why shouldn’t he be acting differently?”

Reyna shifted on Scipio and gave Percy a _look_. She knew. She knew that Gabe was not and would never be Percy’s father. But Percy had asked her never to tell a soul. And Reyna had sworn on the Styx.

“No, no, I’m over that,” Percy said. “Gabe was kind of a jerk anyways. It’s just been stressful lately, assuming all his responsibilities. And getting married on top of everything has just been… A lot.”

“It’s all Octavian’s fault,” Jason scowled. “Something needs to be done about him. Ever since Caesar Gabriel died, he’s been, like, Super Octavian. Octavian on steroids. He’s getting too powerful. And too comfortable.”

Percy immediately went on hyper-alert. “We shouldn’t waste time worrying about Octavian. He’s fine.”

Frank scowled. “Percy, you hate Octavian more than anyone.”

“I don’t want to talk about Octavian,” Percy grumbled. “Let’s go home.”

His companions all shot each other worried looks, but they complied. The five of them started back to the palace. Arion was faster than Blackjack and Scipio, so Hazel kept him reined in alongside them. Frank morphed into a horse himself, and Jason flew along just overhead.

It wasn’t long before the forest faded out and the gates of Rome loomed overhead. Percy and his companions made their way through the city, crowds of people parting respectfully and stopping in their tracks to stare. The five of them abandoned the free-for-all race that they had used in the forest, and adopted a more traditional, dignified march through the city streets. Percy rode in front, tall and regal on Blackjack. Jason quit flying and rode on Frank-the-horse, as he often did when neither of them brought a horse when the five went out because Jason was flying and Frank was in animal form. Reyna rode a little behind Percy, to the right, while Jason rode a little behind and to the left. As the lowest-ranking there, Hazel circled on Arion, sword drawn, clearing the way and keeping watch for any potential threats. People knelt in the streets, and some threw flowers. Percy and his friends neither smiled nor waved in return, simply maintained impassive countenances. As the heads of the army, they needed to be feared and respected.

Their path to the palace took them past the Senate House. By this time, they had amassed a considerable following, almost an impromptu parade, so as they rode past, the senators came outside to see what was going on. Octavian was at the front, standing on the steps with a sneer.

Suddenly, a small boy, maybe about ten or eleven, slipped through the crowd and got right up next to Blackjack. Blackjack jumped, and Percy reined him in to keep him from trampling the boy.

 _Do you want me to trample him, boss?_ Blackjack whinnied.

Percy rubbed Blackjack’s neck soothingly. “Easy, boy. No maiming just yet.” Hazel was at his side in a flash, putting herself and Arion between the boy and Percy, her curved _spatha_ drawn. This wasn’t the first time a child had been used as a distraction in an assassination attempt. Reyna and Jason drew their gladiuses too, looking around on high alert. A tangible ripple of fear ran through the crowd. “What do you want, boy?” Percy demanded.

The child looked frightened. “I’m sorry, m-m-my lord. The Pontifex requests your presence.”

Percy looked up at the Senate House steps. Octavian made eye contact once, before turning around and sweeping back up the stairs, almost tripping on his toga.

“Thank you,” Percy said. He nodded to Hazel, and she reached into a pouch at her belt and handed the boy a gold coin. He took it with a grin and darted back into the crowd, disappearing as suddenly as he’d appeared.

He knew Hazel would have no worries about being compensated. Percy controlled the vast palace treasury. Hazel could waltz in with an empty sack and waltz out with half the treasury for all Percy cared. She’d risked his life for him too many times to count. The least she deserved was whatever she wanted.

Percy rode Blackjack right up the Senate steps. Reyna started behind him, but Percy waved her away with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I can handle it. Go home. Rest.”

Reyna scowled, but she couldn’t disobey a direct order, not in front of the whole city. She turned around. “HA!” she yelled, and Scipio broke into a gallop, people throwing themselves out of the way in her path. Jason on Frank and Hazel on Arion were right behind her.

Percy rode Blackjack between the white columns, right into the Senate House. He knew Octavian hated it when he did that.

Octavian was lounging in the Emperor’s chair, at the far end of the room. The Senate wasn’t in session today, but a few senators were still milling around, whispering in dark corners and giving Percy dark looks. He knew they all despised him. They despised how young he was, how much power he had, and how much he hated all of them in turn. Percy pulled Blackjack to a halt at the foot of the throne.

“You’re in my chair,” he informed Octavian.

Octavian looked around like he was just now noticing. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

He gave Percy a smirk, like _what are you gonna do about it?_

Octavian was a descendant of Apollo, but if he were going to have an Olympian parent, Percy reflected that it would most likely be Annoying, god of all-around jerks. His parents were wealthy, and exercised great influence in Rome. He had risen to power under the guise of Pontifex Maximus, mouthpiece of the gods. Percy knew for a fact that the gods did not speak through Octavian. Unless that god was Annoying, god of all-around jerks.

But Octavian knew things about Percy. Not the secret he kept hidden on his wrist. The _other_ secret. The one that Octavian had nailed over Percy’s head like a death sentence. The one that allowed Octavian to sit in Percy’s throne. The one that was making Percy get married in a fortnight.

“You went missing. People will be talking. It could have been disastrous.”

Percy shrugged. “I’m here now. It was only six hours. I’ve been away for longer for no reason.”

Octavian shook his head in a patronizing manner, which irritated Percy. “But never two weeks before your wedding.”

Percy scoffed. “Maybe _you’re_ the one who should be getting married, Octavian.”

Octavian laughed. “While serving as Pontifex? Absurd.”

Percy rolled his eyes internally. _Like that’s stopped you from having relations with women before._

Octavian’s watery blue eyes turned serious, and he leaned forward out of Percy’s throne. “You will be cooperative about this wedding. I could care less what you do with your wife afterward, but you will marry her.” Percy’s skin felt like it was on fire. He wanted to jump in the ocean, and swim down down down, as far as he could until he hit the bottom. He opened and closed his mouth, and found that he couldn’t take in any air. Octavian smiled. “Oh, and by the way... Tell your mother I say hello.”


	2. No Going Back Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Annabeth
> 
> In which Annabeth is moving to a whole new country to marry some guy she's never seen and her friends just want to help. Also, she may or may not try to kill a certain Roman emperor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth's first POV chapter is here! I love Annabeth's character so so much and I hope I did her justice. Stay tuned for the next chapter... In which a Percabeth wedding is a very real possibility ;) (Boundaries will be pushed and things will be thrown). But for now, enjoy Annabeth. Let me know what you think!  
> ♡ aschuylersister

Annabeth stood on the docks, her eyes closed so she could better take in her surroundings. A contradictory method, she knew, but all her other senses seemed to come so much more alive when her eyes were closed. She could feel the salt collecting on her skin and her chiton billowing around her legs. She could smell the fish being hauled in from the sea and hear the cries of the fisherman as they laughed and taunted each other from their respective boats. She could hear gulls cawing, and children’s feet pounding rhythmically on the wood as they darted by. She could feel Piper’s body standing next to hers, radiating warmth and tranquility. _Piper_.

Annabeth’s heart squeezed with love for her friend as she thought back to the conversation they had had a few nights ago.

_“Rome?” Piper repeated, her face infuriatingly tranquil, as always._

_“Rome,” Annabeth affirmed, avoiding the swirling eyes that seemed to be a different color every time she looked at them. “My father… My father he… He’s giving me away. In marriage. To Caesar Perseus.”_

_“Oh, Annabeth,” Piper had said, quickly walking over and folding her friend into her arms. Annabeth didn’t cry. She was too numb to cry. But Piper’s soothing presence almost made her want to let go._

_Annabeth sniffed resolutely and pulled away. “I don’t ask you to go with me. I know you’re happy here in Greece. I would never make you go somewhere you didn’t want to.”_

_“Annabeth,” Piper said, her tone fierce and scolding. “I’m only happy in Greece because_ you _are here. You’re my best friend. How could I abandon you?”_

Now, five days later, Piper stood stoically on the docks next to Annabeth, guarding the stacks and stacks of trunks that contained everything they would need to begin a new life in Rome. While most handmaidens stood a customary respectful distance behind their masters, Annabeth and Piper were under no such illusions. Piper had been Annabeth’s loyal companion since they were children, and Annabeth loved her better than any of her own blood sisters.

Despite her chiton and hair being plainer, Piper’s beauty outshone Annabeth’s. Her shiny chocolate braids were functionable and fashionable, and her tan skin was exotic-looking. Piper was a demigod too, a daughter of Aphrodite, but that was expected, as only demigods were considered worthy to serve royalty in Greece. Piper’s father had been a handsome slave in the palace, making Piper’s position assured from birth, even despite her godly parentage. Annabeth, on the other hand, reflected that Piper would make an even better princess than Annabeth herself. Piper had an infectious, soothing voice that instantly made everyone around her melt. She was unassumingly charming. She would have made one Hades of a diplomat.

But those were only dreams. And Annabeth was lucky that she wasn’t one of those princesses who had jealous, conniving handmaidens.

“Leo’s ship approaches,” Thalia informed her, and Annabeth opened her eyes. The older girl’s eyes were glued to the hustle and bustle at sea. Piper wasn’t the only member of Annabeth’s entourage who stood on the docks with her. Thalia, Annabeth’s own personal guard, stood watch nearby, glowering at everyone who came within ten feet of them. A Spartan maiden captured in a battle four years ago, Thalia was a better warrior than most Athenian men. Of course, the Athenian army would never have accepted her like the Spartans did. So thirteen-year-old Annabeth plucked Thalia from the dungeons and put her to work as her personal bodyguard. After a few close encounters, Annabeth won Thalia’s trust, and Thalia had been loyal to her in years since.

Thalia certainly drew a lot of looks as she stood next to the royal entourage. Her black hair was cropped closer than was proper for an Athenian woman, and her electric blue eyes were unnerving. Thalia was a daughter of Zeus, much to the consternation of the Athenians, who firmly believed that Zeus should only procreate with mortal royalty. But Thalia displayed the black eagle of Zeus burned into her forearm with pride, just like Annabeth did with her owl. Piper, on the other hand, kept her dove covered with a stack of thin gold bands. She was of the other breed of demigod, whose parentage made her a target. Demigods were feared by most mortals. Annabeth’s royal blood assured her respect, as did Thalia’s fierce nature. But soft-spoken Piper didn’t like to advertise the fact that she was a half-blood, much less the daughter of a love goddess.

Annabeth straightened. “It’s about time.”

Piper snorted. “Is he ever on time?”

The last member of her band of misfits was bringing the ship around. Leo, a carpenter in the palace, was only fifteen but he was already a skilled sailor. Ships seemed to bend to his will, even while he barely touched the wheel. He was too young to be anything more than a deckhand in the Athenian navy, so he mostly stuck to building things. He had become Piper’s friend first, and Annabeth’s by association. He had jumped at Annabeth’s offer to go to Rome. He wasn’t Grecian anyways, he was a Spaniard, so he didn’t get much recognition in Athens. Rome, he hoped, would be more accepting. Here he came now, steering his small, battered ship, the _Argo II_ , right up to the docks. He pulled into the harbor, and his crew began tossing ropes down to the waiting sailors to tie the ship into place. He swung off of a rope onto the dock like a monkey, his rich brown curls bouncing around his sharp features and trouble-maker grin. His chiton was too loose around his thin waist, and stained with oil.

“How d’you do, princess?”

Annabeth laughed. “As well as can be expected, Leo.”

Leo frowned, his normally mischievous features going dark. “Yeah, ’m sorry about that. I haven’t seen you since I heard the news about where we’re going. Y’know,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “If you want to bail, the _Argo II_ _is_ the fastest ship in all of Greece. I could have you in Spain by Tuesday.” Leo tended to blend his words together when he talked, like he was thinking faster than he was speaking.

Annabeth twisted her mouth up in a rueful smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m almost tempted to take you up on that. Almost.”

Leo’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, well… Let’s get your stuff on the ship. Hey Pipes.”

Piper grinned at the use of her nickname and punched Leo on the arm. “I was starting to wonder when you were gonna remember my existence.”

Leo rubbed his arm and nodded to Thalia. “And you, your most Scary Excellency.”

Thalia rolled her eyes at the heavens like she was asking for strength. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

Leo finally set his gaze on the stacks and stacks of luggage, and he whistled appreciatively. “Sheesh, did you guys pack for an army? I don’t even know if all this stuff is gonna fit!”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “You do know we’re _moving_ to Rome, right? Like, permanently. This is not a vacation.”

Leo grumbled under his breath. “Oh sure, what did you pack, the entire castle? Always making the poor _Argo II_ take the brunt of everything.” But he dutifully began moving boxes up the gangplank, Thalia and Piper moving in to help. Annabeth rolled her eyes again. Leo always talked about his ship like it was a person.

Annabeth was dimly aware that she should be helping with the trunks, but she couldn’t bring herself to move her legs. She knew that once she got on that ship, it could be years before she saw Greece again. She might _never_ see Greece again. The thought paralyzed her. She stood at the very end of the dock, her toes square with the edge. When she looked down, she couldn’t see the dock or any land at all. Just water. Thoughts swirled around in her head like pieces of parchment on a breeze. _What if I fell?_ Annabeth thought wildly. _How far could I go? How far could I swim before the water filled my lungs and dragged me down? What would happen then?_

“Annabeth?” Annabeth took too long to turn around. Piper crouched on the dock a yard away, warily, like she didn’t want to startle Annabeth but she was also fully prepared to dive in after her. “The ship is ready,” Piper said softly. “We’re waiting for you.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. “Piper…”

“Don’t think,” Piper said automatically, before Annabeth could finish what she was going to say. “If you think, you’ll go crazy. Just get on the ship. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Annabeth nodded, tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry._ That seemed to be her mantra these days.

Piper extended her hand, and Annabeth took it gratefully.

“I know it hurts,” Piper whispered.

 _Do you?_ Annabeth’s soul cried in a strangled voice. _Can you possibly know what I’m feeling right now?_

“Hey hey,” Leo’s voice called from somewhere on the ship, nearly getting lost in the din of the harbor at midday. “This lovefest is great and all, but we’ve got a fourteen day trip ahead of us. We’d better get going.”

Annabeth took one last look at her home. _We can’t afford a war with Rome,_ Annabeth reminded herself. _You have to do this. Or you won’t even have a home to return to._ The thought spurred her on.

Legs and hands trembling, Annabeth let Piper lead her up the gangplank. Thalia stood at the rail, looking out over the hustle and bustle of the docks, eyes always scanning for new threats. Leo was gone - physically present to be sure, but immersed in the world of the _Argo II_ , sure to be distracted until they were well at sea. Someone pulled up the anchor. The sails extended with a _pop_.

Annabeth didn’t cry. _There’s no going back now_.

 

* * *

 

Annabeth woke with a start. Just days ago, the creaking of the boards and the constant _slap slap_ of waves against the hull would have put her on edge, even made her seasick. But after fourteen days at sea, they were comforting, even soothing. Sure, they’d made stops at various ports. But Thalia had never let Annabeth off, claiming it too dangerous. Piper had gone ashore with Leo instead, always taking Annabeth’s pouch of gold drachma and returning with some thoughtful trinket or exotic food.

This was the fourteenth morning that Annabeth had awoken in this cabin. But today, her stomach filled with something new: a cold sense of dread. She could hear shouts from a myriad of people - a sure sign that they were coming into a port. But Thalia and Leo had gone over the timetable with Annabeth in detail. This was no ordinary supply stop. This was it. This was their destination. This was Rome.

Annabeth opened her eyes just as her cabin door flew open with a _bang_. It was Piper, skidding in all helter-skelter, hair hastily braided and chiton crumpled from the cramped conditions below deck.

“Annabeth,” she wheezed, out of breath. She had clearly just been running. “We’re here.”

Annabeth nodded slowly, her head still running confusingly slow from sleep. “I figured.”

Piper shook her head in exasperation. “I _told_ Leo to wake me up when we were getting close. Now the Roman envoy is almost here.”

A voice resounded from the hallway. “Hey, it’s your own fault for trusting me to remember _anything_ , Beauty Queen.”

Piper dug through Annabeth’s trunks, tossing things out over her shoulder. “Here!” she said triumphantly, coming up with a white garment. “Wear this.”

Annabeth eyed it. It was the most form-fitting chiton she owned. It was also very… Greek. She narrowed her eyes at Piper. “Don't you think I should at least _try_ to look a little Roman? And a little less… risqué?”

Piper shook the dress at her. “No. I don’t. You’re making a _statement_ with this dress. You’re saying ‘I’m Greek, and you can’t turn me into one of you just like that'. You’re also saying, 'hey there, I’m a total smokeshow and you should be re-counting your blessings right about now'.”

Annabeth, still sitting on her bed, chucked a pillow at her friend. “ _Pi_ -per!”

Piper dodged it and laughed. “What? You are! Now put it on.”

Annabeth slipped out of her nightgown and into the dress, and Piper immediately began tackling Annabeth’s wild curls with a brush.

Thalia burst in the door, dressed in full armor, clutching a spear. “The Roman envoy has arriv- _oh my gods your hair_!”

Piper gritted her teeth and worked through another snarl. “I’m _working on it_!”

Annabeth groaned and buried her face in her hands. “This is a disaster. _I’m_ a disaster.”

“No you’re not,” Piper said soothingly, just as Thalia muttered:

“You look like you’ve been run over by a chariot.”

Piper ran the brush down Annabeth’s head, and it passed through without catching any snarls. “Ha!” she yelled. “I did it.” She stuck her hand out behind her. “Pins.”

Thalia just stared at her. “Who are you _talking_ to?”

Piper twisted Annabeth’s hair with one hand and shook the other at Thalia. “ _You_!”

Thalia sighed, but she swiftly darted over to the wardrobe and started handing Piper pins. They worked furiously, and in a matter of minutes Annabeth’s hair was in a neat updo, studded with fresh flowers and seed pearls. Piper dropped a veil over Annabeth’s head, as was custom for a bride entering Rome. She took a step back and clasped her hands. “Oh, I’m good.”

“Whatever,” Annabeth grumbled, her voice slightly muffled. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

As Annabeth ascended to the deck, flanked by Thalia and Piper, cold fear trickled into her stomach. This was it. This was the end of the line. Any number of things could go wrong, this could be a disaster, she could-

 _Stop_ , she told herself. _You are a princess of Greece, the daughter of a king, the daughter of_ Athena _. And these Romans can do nothing to you._

Still, Annabeth was on edge as she and her companions reached the edge of the gangplank. Leo was waiting for them. “So long princess,” he said with a mock salute. “I’ll be here for a few days, making repairs. Might miss the wedding. But I’ll catch up with you at the palace in less than a week.”

Annabeth smiled distractedly. “Thank you, Leo.”

Piper gave him a hug, and Thalia shook his hand so hard that Annabeth heard bones crack. And that was it. No more goodbyes to be said. Nothing else keeping her back. She took a deep breath. And stepped onto the gangplank. And walked all the way down until her feet touched the shore. Immediately, her legs felt wobbly, but she refused to show it. The waiting envoy consisted of about twenty people, two on horseback and the rest ordinary foot soldiers. The two on horseback were a guy and a girl, both young. The guy was probably from the far east, and the girl from North Africa. But the guy, who sat very straight on his horse, shifted, and Annabeth caught a glimpse of something tattooed on his forearm. _A demigod_. The girl was wearing gloves, so Annabeth couldn’t tell about her, but her golden curls and golden eyes had an unearthly lustre to them. She sat astride a magnificent golden stallion like she was born to ride.

As Annabeth and her friends approached, the girl flashed them a small smile. “Ave Romana, Greeks. I am Centurion Hazel of the _alae_. And this is Centurion Frank of the fifth cohort.”

Frank nodded to them, his face unchanged. “We were not aware that your envoy would be so… small. We have a chariot ready for you, and horses for those of your party who wish to ride.”

He waved his hand, and soldiers came forward leading several horses by the reins, and another soldier steered a chariot pulled by four snowy white stallions out of an alleyway.

Annabeth smiled. “I’ll ride, thank you.” She deftly chose a gorgeous black mare, and grabbed her reins from the soldier who held her. She jumped up into the saddle, to the quiet approval of Thalia, the surprise of the Romans, and the exasperated eye roll of Piper, who hated riding and would have definitely gone with the chariot.

Frank frowned in confusion. “O... kay.” But he waved his hand again and the chariot dissipated back into the shadows.

Thalia and Piper chose their horses, and the party started back through the city.

“The wedding will take place tomorrow,” Hazel said, her voice almost getting carried away by the hustle and bustle of Rome. Annabeth almost didn’t hear just because she was too busy admiring. It was the biggest city she had ever seen. And the _architecture_ … Of course, nothing could top Greek architecture, but some of the buildings took her breath away.

“That’s fine,” Annabeth said neutrally, but inside she thought it was hilarious that she wasn’t even being allowed to choose a date for her own wedding.

The palace, Annabeth reflected, was disturbingly close to the docks. Terrible strategic positioning in the event of an attack. They passed the Senate House and several other official-looking buildings, where people ran out and crowded on the steps to catch a glimpse of the Greek princess. Annabeth felt ridiculously grateful for the veil.

As they got closer, their accompanying soldiers broke off and went somewhere else. Hazel and Frank alone escorted them to the gates. A few palace servants were waiting just inside. “They will show you to where you’ll stay… tonight.” Hazel’s voice held the implication that Annabeth understood far too well. Tonight she would sleep alone. And tomorrow… Tomorrow night she would be sharing a room with someone she had never met. “Ave Romana,” Hazel said. “See you soon.” She and Frank took off on horseback, away from the palace. Annabeth and her friends dismounted and followed the servants through a complicated maze of gardens and archways and rooms. The palace was _enormous_ , and it took Annabeth’s breath away. Annabeth’s suite was at the very heart of it, probably to discourage her from running away, she reflected. The servants made sure she got inside, and then left, taking Piper with them. She was to sleep in the servant’s quarters, which Annabeth would have protested, but this time tomorrow Annabeth would be a married woman and Piper couldn’t very well share a room with her then. And Annabeth wasn’t here to make waves. Well, maybe a few. A reasonable number of waves. Like six or seven.

Thalia stayed behind, outside, to guard Annabeth’s door. And Annabeth walked into her suite alone. It was a nice suite, to be sure, but to Annabeth it felt like a cage. The servants had closed the door with a distinct finality, as if to say _this is your prison, and you will stay here until your wedding_. Annabeth didn’t like it. Not at all. There was an assortment of cheeses and figs and bread on a platter on a table in one room, complete with a small carving knife. Annabeth ignored the food and palmed the knife, tucking it into her belt. Thalia would _not_ be okay with Annabeth leaving, but Annabeth wanted to explore alone. She wadded up her veil and tossed it onto the bed. She wouldn’t need it, because hopefully she could avoid being seen. The windowsill was about five feet above an assortment of bushes at the back of the palace. Annabeth jumped without a second thought, nearly breaking her ankle as she tucked and rolled. And so began her tour of the palace. Annabeth wandered through gardens and shadowy corridors and great banquet halls, mostly empty. Not a lot of people resided in the palace. There were a few instances where she had to duck behind a pillar when a servant or a guard came walking down the halls, but overall she walked unseen.

The trouble began when she came down a relatively secluded hallway and heard voices. She crept behind a bust of Mars to look, and was aghast to see a cluster of men in senatorial togas. At the front was a younger man dressed in purple, with ashy blond hair and watery blue eyes. He spoke animatedly, with a cruel gleam in his smile, and Annabeth realized very quickly that she did not want to be seen by them. She could only catch snippets of their conversation, but they seemed to be looking for someone.

“... ran away… out of control … wedding … responsibility …”

Nope. Annabeth did _not_ want to be seen by them. Annabeth dashed through the nearest archway, and wound up in another garden. This garden was dedicated to Poseidon, or Neptune as the Romans would call him, judging by the enormous statue of him that presided over a fountain. Annabeth began to breathe again as she crept through a cluster of rose bushes, when suddenly, she got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t alone. She prepared to run, when suddenly, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and another reached around and clapped over her mouth. Adrenaline rushed in and instinct took over. Annabeth whirled, and a maneuver she and Thalia had worked on for ages came to the front of her mind. She grabbed the attacker by the arms and flipped them over her shoulder onto their back.

“Ow… gods of O _lym_ pus,” a voice cried. A _male_ voice. Annabeth pulled her knife out of her belt and stepped on his windpipe.

“What do you want?” she snapped. She had planned on saying other things, threatening things that would put this would-be criminal in his place. But she looked down at his face and they all seemed to leave her head. The boy she had just thwarted was wearing a purple cape and the golden armor of someone of high status, and she kind of regretted sneaking out in the first place. Blood rushed to her face and everything just seemed to move faster, until the only discernible feature was his eyes. Eyes the same murky green as the sea. And they were staring right up into her own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were sailing in autumn in ancient times, it really would take approximately fourteen days to get from Athens to Rome. How did I discover this, you ask? After relentless Google searching, I found a site put together by actual Stanford classics professors called ORBIS, which is basically just Google maps for the Roman Empire. If you’re a history nerd like me, you should really check it out. IT’S SO FUN. (And I will be making full use of it in chapters to come.)


	3. Nice to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Percy and Annabeth
> 
> A Percabeth wedding. Percy is in over his head and Annabeth resolves to hate this stupid teenage emperor. But no one told her his eyes would be so green?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****IMPORTANT: In order to avoid confusion, I'm spelling it out here that this is a dual POV chapter. The horizontal line indicates a switch in POV. It starts Percy and kinda melts into Annabeth. Chapters will not normally be like this, but I wanted to include both of their thoughts/reactions to this wedding  
>   
> Hey everybody! So, I haven't really had time to go back and proofread/revise this chapter in the depth that I'd like, so excuse any minor errors. It's been a crazy week. When I have more time, I may go in and edit some stuff, but I wanted the bulk of it to be up today, because I'm already kinda behind.  
> Anyways, it's a Percabeth wedding! A friend was questioning why I'm using up the big wedding so early in the story, but this *is* an arranged marriage. It's less of a milestone in their relationship and more of a thing that happens. In this fic, the Percabeth relationship will be developing throughout their married life. At least, that's the way I'm writing it. However, a wedding is a wedding and I tried to make it as magical as possible, given the circumstances. Okay. You're probably sick of my inner monologue. Enjoy! Let me know what you think! I'll try to have a new chapter up next weekend.  
> ♡ aschuylersister

Percy was _not_ having a good day. After his meltdown/disappearance two weeks ago, Octavian was keeping him under lock and key. His friends were walking on emotional eggshells around him, afraid to say or do something that might trigger whatever downslide they thought he was in. Even _Reyna_ was treating him like a stranger. It was driving Percy insane. He’d just gotten back from a Senate meeting that had taken all day. The Senators couldn’t agree on one single issue, and Octavian wasn’t helping, merely antagonizing the flames. And he wouldn’t let Percy say anything. According to Octavian, Percy was there to “observe” and “learn”. Considering the fact that Octavian and Percy were the same age, that _really_ made Percy mad. He’d come to his favorite garden to get away from the constant _voices_ , maybe find some quiet. It was one of the few places in the palace that Octavian never seemed to find him. But here came this _girl_ , this blonde creature whose rushed footfalls snapped branches and were certain to lead Octavian straight here. Percy had only meant to quiet her when he grabbed her, but she had flipped. Literally. She flipped Percy right over her shoulder and onto his back. Percy was too surprised to fight back. This girl was _strong_. He lay on his back, dazed and confused, the only things really in focus were the girl’s eyes. Her pupils were dilated in fear, or maybe shock, like the centers of a storm. The rest of her eyes were a swirl of grey, and they melted outwards like a hurricane. Pale blonde eyebrows were narrowed over them, and tanned hands gripped a knife. She wasn’t holding it properly, she clearly had never been trained, but Percy didn’t doubt that she could do damage.

Percy had never seen her before in his life. His initial thought was a new palace servant, but Percy ruled that out almost immediately. She was gorgeous. She looked like a princess. The girl’s blonde curls were shiny and clean, and her dress was studded with jewels. It wasn’t a traditional Roman dress. No, this dress was… Greek. The girl was staring at him in shock, and she’d eased up on his throat. Percy sat up, and she let him.

“You’re from the Greek envoy,” he said immediately. The girl didn’t say anything, but she didn’t deny it. Percy’s eyes darted over to the bushes. Octavian and the senator’s voices were getting louder. They may have heard something. He jumped up and grabbed the girl’s wrist. “Come on, we have to hide.”

The girl instinctively jerked her wrist away. “I don’t think I should go with you,” she growled.

Percy looked desperately towards the entrance. He could glimpse flashes of movement from between the bushes. He was out of time. “Okay, time’s up,” he muttered. He locked his arms around the girl.

" _Hey_ -” she began to protest, but Percy tackled her straight into a shrub. Dragging her with him, he crawled underneath, and curled up as small as he could, keeping the stranger locked against his chest.

“Not a word,” he hissed in her ear. The girl’s eyes could have set the world on fire, but she must have not wanted to be found either, because she was silent as Octavian and his cronies tramped through the garden.

“Honestly,” Octavian ranted, his gold-gilded sandals coming dangerously close to the bush where Percy and his companion hid. “The boy has the _audacity_ to disappear less than twenty-four hours before his own wedding!”

At the word ‘wedding’, the girl in his arms flinched. And Percy had a feeling. A terrible, sinking feeling that the stranger he was holding was in fact his bride-to-be. He shifted, just enough to get a good look at her face, and his heart did another somersault. Her blonde curls smelled like lemons. Her face was sharp and almost regal, with an unearthly glow behind the tan skin. She wasn’t a sweet, delicate, floral kind of beautiful. She was beautiful in the way a knight on a stallion charging into battle is beautiful. Poetic, strong, heartbreaking. She almost made Percy be intrigued by the possibility of marriage. Almost.

Percy was so captivated that he didn’t notice when Octavian and his cronies left. He noticed when the girl shook herself free of his embrace, a tad distastefully, and jumped up like she was being prodded with hot irons. She glared down at Percy for the second time in ten minutes.

“You really need to learn to stop grabbing strangers against their will,” she said, but her voice had less of the raw anger behind it than it did a few minutes ago.

“In my defense,” Percy said, jumping nimbly to his feet. “ _You_ were the one who tried to kill _me_.”

The girl whirled and sputtered. “Because _you_ attacked me!”

Percy squinted. “Because _you_ were making way too much noise. We were going to be found. But we could play the blame game all day.”

The girl narrowed her eyes. “Why are you hiding from them, anyways?”

Percy scowled. “None of your business. And I think you should know who I am. I’m Caesar Perseus.”

The girl showed no visible reaction, simply stared with a forlorn expression. “And I should be going. Good day, Caesar.” She inclined her head curtly, but Percy ran forward, about to grab her arm before thinking better of it and merely sprinting until he came up alongside her.

“Wait,” he said. “I think I know who you are. You’re Princess Annabeth, aren’t you? Of Athens?”

She stopped and turned to face him, her eyes murky. “Yes. And that is _precisely_ why we shouldn’t be together right now. You should know the Roman customs better than I do. We aren’t supposed to see each other until the wedding.”

Percy found himself struggling to keep up with her without switching to full on exertion. “Forgive me, but you don’t seem like the sort of girl who cares about _customs_. I’m the Caesar. I think we can be allowed a brief conversation!”

Annabeth gave him a scathing glare. “What if I don’t _want_ to converse?” Percy struggled to find the words to answer, but Annabeth shook her head and cut him off. “Good evening, Caesar. I’ll see you tomorrow at the wedding.”

As Annabeth stalked away, Percy wanted to call out to her, but he had no idea what to say. He had imagined their first interaction going quite differently, and he had the horrible feeling that this was going to set the precedent for the rest of his life. The rest of his life with _her_.

At least, Percy thought, it will be anything but boring.

 

* * *

 

“You _what_!?” Piper slammed the hairbrush down on the dresser, and Annabeth buried her face in her hands.

“I used that move Thalia taught me. I flipped him over my shoulder, and threatened him with a knife. How many times do I have to repeat it, Piper?”

Piper shook her head. “As many times as it takes until I fully acknowledge that we’re all going to be executed for treason. _Honestly_ , Annabeth, what were you thinking?”

“I _wasn’t_ thinking, Piper! I was trying not to think! I needed to get out of this _room_ , out of my _head_ , and when somebody grabbed me it was instinct. But it just confirmed what the universe has been trying to tell me. I can’t escape this wedding. I can’t escape this life.” Piper was quiet, thoughtfully running the brush through Annabeth’s hair. The mood in the room suddenly changed, growing sober “I’m getting married today, Piper,” Annabeth whispered.

Piper paused for a long, long time before replying. “Yes. Yes you are.”

The two girls didn’t say much else, throughout the tedious process of getting Annabeth ready. Piper outdid herself on Annabeth’s hair, threading her usual updo with paper-thin chains of gold, so that Annabeth’s entire head felt heavy, but her hair itself seemed to turn to gold, catching the light and shimmering like a rare and precious jewel. Annabeth put on a fine-spun white chiton, Roman-style, and Piper tied a belt around her hips with the Knot of Hercules. Only her husband would be able to untie that knot. Well, not literally, because of course Annabeth could get out of the belt if she had to. But according to ancient Roman custom, only a husband could undo the sacred knot. The whole time, the scene in the garden kept playing over and over in Annabeth’s mind. She had known that Perseus was her age - a month younger than her, in fact - but that didn’t mean she had been prepared for him to be… _attractive_. His sun-bronzed skin and messy black waves suggested he spent a lot of time outdoors. He was tall, taller than her, and lanky, but with definite muscle definition on his arms. His eyes were the murky green of the sea, holding promises of all things dangerous and fun.

That entire time, wrapped up in his arms, the most immediate and pressing thought blaring in her mind was: _this_ is going to be my husband?

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Annabeth’s head spun, so much that she felt like she was having an out of body experience. Things came to her in fragments. Certain sounds, feelings, sights stood out. The pressure of Thalia’s grip on her upper arm as she joined their procession on the way to the throne room. The candles that lit their path, flickering and distorting in Annabeth’s peripheral vision. The rush of the ocean, somewhere in the distant past. Faces floated by, servants who stopped in their tracks and blatantly craned their necks to catch a glimpse of their new empress. Once again, Annabeth had a sheer white veil over her head, and she felt claustrophobic in it. Following at a respectful distance, Piper escorted Annabeth all the way up the aisle. To where Perseus and several other nobles and officials stood waiting on a dais at the end of a very long throne room. It didn’t _feel_ monumental. It didn’t feel important. It didn’t feel _real_. It felt like Annabeth was walking in a dream, and she would wake up back in Greece. In that moment, she couldn’t convince herself that this would be the rest of her life.

Piper deftly flipped Annabeth’s veil back over her head without messing up a single strand of hair, and Annabeth held back an appreciative smirk at the way Perseus’s pupils dilated and his hands twisted over the hilt of the ceremonial gladius stuck in his belt. At least she wasn’t the only one whose heart was beating faster.

The Roman Pontifex Maximus, Octavian, Annabeth thought she remembered, started talking, but Annabeth wasn’t really interested in what he had to say. She instead decided to focus on Perseus’s eyes. They made the dreamy haze shatter like glass. They were intriguing. They were too dynamic to be the eyes of a mortal. Annabeth’s eyes drifted to his forearm, but both of his wrists were covered with leather gauntlets. Annabeth dismissed the thought. If his mother was a goddess, the Roman government would have advertised the fact, and she would have heard something. And if his _father_ was a god, well… That would negate any claim he had to the throne. He would have a civil war on his hands against former Emperor Gabriel’s blood relatives.

As she and Perseus stared at each other, each unwilling to back down, the entire tense moment they had shared the other night hung between them like a palpable cloud. Sure, he was interesting, but Annabeth couldn’t picture herself _ever_ loving him. She had studied Roman politics. They did _terrible_ things. Their Senate was rife with corruption, and where was Perseus? His father had facilitated the corruption, and here he was, hiding in gardens and doing absolutely nothing to fix it. He was either stupid or just as corrupt as his father, and Annabeth couldn’t decide which was worse.

His lips moved. He was saying something. What was he saying?

“Annabeth. Annabeth. Annabeth!”

Annabeth shook her head, and the dream was over. “What?”

Perseus motioned to a piece of paper that Octavian was holding out. “You have to sign it.”

Annabeth stared down at the paper. A marriage contract. In Latin, but that hardly mattered. Annabeth spoke Latin just as well as Greek. Now, she would probably only ever speak Greek in private with Piper. Annabeth took the quill from Octavian with shaking hands. Divorce didn’t exist in Roman culture. Especially not for royals. The only way out of this after she signed her name would be her death, or the death of the boy standing inches away. Annabeth scribbled her name with half-closed eyes. Perseus grabbed the back of her head, and ghosted his lips across hers in the most half-hearted kiss Annabeth thought she’d ever experienced, or ever would experience. Her hands remained clenched in fists by her sides, until Perseus pried one of them open and threaded her fingers through his. “What are you _doing_?” she hissed, but Perseus’s grip remained like iron.

“We’re going to a formal reception banquet now. And it’s custom for us to be holding hands as a display of your consent.”

Annabeth snorted contemptuously. “My _consent_ ,” she repeated bitterly.

“Yes,” Perseus said, his voice withdrawn. “Your consent.”

The banquet hall was packed with people. In the flickering candlelight, their faces blurred and merged, turning into some kind of horrible creature. They all leered at Annabeth, and it made her almost grateful to be holding Perseus’s hand. Almost. He let go as soon as they reached the table she assumed they’d be sitting at. Octavian left to go sit with several senators, which made Annabeth feel relieved. Something about that man unsettled her.

Perseus distractedly offered his arm to help Annabeth lower herself onto the cushions that Romans used instead of chairs. Seated around the low table were the two centurions, Frank and Hazel, who had met Annabeth at the docks, as well as three other people she didn’t know. One was a boy, who looked like he could be Annabeth’s brother. His white-blonde hair was cropped military style, and his skin was tan. He had Thalia’s eyes and a small white scar over his upper lip. Annabeth reflected that he was just the sort of person Piper would find attractive. Seated next to him was a girl with tar-black hair and eyes and an even more military bearing than the boy next to her. They both wore purple and gold, and Annabeth assumed that they were high-ranking officers in the legion. The last person was older than the rest, and she was so clearly Perseus’s mom. She looked just like him. She smiled at Annabeth, and Annabeth got a warm fuzzy feeling that she tried hard to squash. She’d never really had a mother in her life, and she got a sudden pang from the way this woman leaned over to kiss Percy on the cheek and whisper something in his ear. Perseus’s face instantly relaxed, and it was clear he and his mother shared a bond. She instead decided to focus on the black-haired officer. She seemed like Annabeth’s kind of person. She was studying Annabeth with an intensity she appreciated.

“Percy,” she said suddenly, not taking her eyes off of Annabeth. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your bride?”

“Oh,” Perseus said, sounding vaguely distracted. “Right. Everyone, this is Annabeth. Annabeth, this is Frank, and Hazel. Frank is the centurion of the-”

Frank held up a hand. “Hazel and I have met her. We were part of the envoy Octavian sent.”

“Oh. Right. Anyways. This is Jason, and Reyna. They’re co-praetors.” Jason and Reyna nodded to Annabeth, and she filed away their names for later. “And this is my mother. Dowager Empress Sally.”

Annabeth smiled without showing teeth and inclined her head. “Pleasure to meet you all. Hopefully I’ll get the pleasure of becoming further acquainted with all of you in the near future.”

The tension in the air was palpable. Annabeth got the distinct feeling that the people at this table shared a kinship, and Annabeth was an outsider. She hated that feeling.

It was Reyna who took pity and grinned at her. “Of course. Anyone who has to put up with this idiot,” she said, punctuating the statement by reaching across the table and giving Perseus a shove, “deserves a tour. I’ll come find you tomorrow. And definitely let me know if he tries anything. I’ll deck him for you.” Annabeth’s incredulous confusion must have showed on her face, because Reyna laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. I know you’re a daughter of Minerva. We daughters of war goddesses have to stick together.” Reyna showed Annabeth her forearm. The crossed spears of Bellona stood out darkly in the torchlight.

Annabeth grinned. Back home, her brother Malcolm had warned her that many Romans thought of Minerva as more of a crafting and useful-tips goddess, kind of like the goddess of Home Ec. That was so _not_ Annabeth’s mom that Annabeth had laughed. But still, it had been a worry that nagged in the back of her mind. Athena _did_ have a tamer, Home Ec-ish side. Annabeth had a half sister that was indecisive as all get-up in stressful situations, but she could weave a mean tapestry. Reyna’s words, however, proved that at least some Romans got it right. “Thank you.”

Reyna waved her away. “Don’t mention it. Ave Romana!”

Around the table, and around the entire banquet hall, everyone but Annabeth dropped what they were doing and lifted their glasses in salute. “Ave Romana!” The cry echoed off into the torchlight, and it gave Annabeth chills.

A table away, Octavian, who had apparently been watching Annabeth like a hawk, turned on her before she had a chance to blink. “Is saluting the glory of Rome beneath its new Empress?”

Annabeth blinked. She instinctively looked to Perseus for help, seeing how he was the only person in this entire room she really somewhat knew, but he was resolutely staring into his wine goblet. Annabeth was tempted to snort. _Figures_. “I meant no disrespect, Pontifex,” she said smoothly. “I am merely unfamiliar with this form of salute. I will be sure to join in next time.”

Even as she said it, she could feel bile rising in the back of her throat. She could hear her mother’s accusing voice in her head. _Traitor. Traitor to Athens. Traitor to Greece._

Octavian nodded and turned back to his table ominously. “Good.”

The blonde-haired praetor, Jason, spoke up for the first time. “So, you two newlyweds probably want to be heading off soon.” He winked suggestively, and Annabeth had to bite down on her tongue from informing him that the last thing she wanted to do was be alone with Caesar Perseus. Again.

She wholly expected Perseus to be against this idea, but to her surprise, he stood up. “You know what Jason,” he said. “You’re right.”

Annabeth fought the urge to dig her nails into the table and force him to drag her away, kicking and screaming. Instead, she unwillingly stood up as well. “Again, it was a pleasure to meet you all.” Everyone else smiled, but Dowager Empress Sally stood up and gave Annabeth an unexpected hug.

“Of course, dear. You _must_ stop by my rooms for a cup of tea sometime.”

Dowager Empress Sally took Annabeth’s breath away. There was such a simple grace to the way she moved, the way she talked, that Annabeth really wanted to be her friend. Annabeth’s head spun with giddiness. “I- I would love that.”

Perseus gave his mother a brief hug as well. “See you tomorrow, mom.” He grabbed Annabeth by the wrist and led her away, and she waited until they were out of sight to yank it free. Her stomach churned the whole way to his rooms. Her rooms. _Their_ rooms. The thought made Annabeth queasy. She would never have rooms to herself, not for years, until she could pass of the excuse of not wanting more children as a reason to sleep alone. But what if she didn’t even _care_ at that point? It was so far in the future. The thought made her want to laugh hysterically.

Perseus led her into a luxurious, elaborate series of rooms, that seemed pretty generically royal to her. There were a few personal items scattered here and there on a table, but it didn’t look like he spent a lot of time in them. Ignoring her, Perseus walked over to his wardrobe and started pulling off various pieces of ceremonial armor, his back to Annabeth. Unsure what else to do, Annabeth sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry we left so… abruptly,” Perseus said, his back still to her. “Octavian was drunk, my friends were stifling, and the whole thing was going south.”

Annabeth leaned back, lacing her hands over her knee. “I didn’t think so,” she said cautiously. “Reyna was nice. Your mother was lovely.”

Perseus tossed his breastplate onto a table with a clatter. “Of course _you_ wouldn’t think so. They’re all nice, but they’re all acting like I’m some poor miserable creature to be pitied. They think I’m hopeless. Although, I’m not sure why I’m telling _you_ all this.”

Annabeth was quiet, on edge, and Perseus came over to sit down on the edge of the bed next to her. Annabeth froze. Perseus was sitting awfully close. Her mind unwittingly flashed back to the conversation she and Piper had had earlier.

_“You look gorgeous, Annabeth,” Piper said, a hint of pride in her voice as she tucked one last flower into her friend’s blonde curls._

_“Let’s hope he doesn’t think so,” Annabeth muttered darkly, twisting and untwisting the fabric of her chiton in her sweaty palms._

_Piper frowned. “What does that mean?’_

_“You know,” Annabeth prompted. “The wedding night…”_

_Annabeth looked up at Piper helplessly, her cheeks red. Annabeth had always slept under armed guard, in order to protect her purity. It was the only thing she had of any value, besides her title. Without it, she certainly wouldn’t be marrying Perseus today. Piper, on the other hand, roamed free in the twilight hours. It was the one thing she had that Annabeth would never have._

_“_ Oh _,” Piper said in understanding. “_ Oh _. Well… I would assume he’s… experienced. My best advice is to close your eyes and let him run the show. It shouldn’t be too painful. Nothing you can’t handle.”_

_Annabeth blew a few wisps of hair out of her eyes, mortified beyond belief and grateful that it was only Piper._

Now, she sat right next to Perseus. On his bed. At night. No, not just Perseus. Her husband. Perseus seemed to notice that she was uncomfortable, because he moved away from her by a few inches. Or maybe he was just antsy. Annabeth needed to stop attributing his motives to concern for her well being. That was a dangerous line to walk.

“So,” Perseus said, clearing his throat. “This is… awkward.”

Annabeth stared at him curiously. She was especially surprised that the first thought that popped into her brain was: _What a dork_ . This was the emperor of _Rome_. Not Leo or somebody else she could tease.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Perseus scratched the back of his neck. “So, my personal issues with my friends aside, let’s get something straight. We’re both adults here. You seem… Like you’re not an idiot.” Annabeth barely held back a snort of indignation at that. “We both know that we’re expected to produce an heir sometime soon. Like, probably in the next two or three years, if we can pretend that you’re having some kind of fertility problem. But, at least for the first six months, I’m not going to pressure you into anything. We should at least be friends first.”

Annabeth couldn’t hold back her sigh of relief. “Good. I mean, I agree. I mean, of course, Lord Perseus.” Annabeth caught herself at the last minute and ducked her head in a sign of respect. Perseus seemed so down to earth, that it was easy to slip into treating him like a friend. But Annabeth had known him all of ten minutes. He might be the kind of emperor who wanted people to address him super formally.

Perseus shook his head firmly. “No, none of that. I’ve always thought married people who called each other by their titles were ridiculous. You call me Percy. And I’ll call you Annabeth. Unless - there’s something else you’d like to be called.”

Annabeth shook her head. “Annabeth is fine.” She couldn’t hold back a grin, as well as the first words that popped into her head. “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”

 _Dammit, Annabeth._ If she was going to make it in Rome, she really needed to stop speaking impulsively.

Percy smiled hesitantly and tilted his head. “Good different or bad different?”

Annabeth tilted her head the same way and thought about it. “Good different. But also just different different.”

Percy grinned and climbed back onto the bed, like he was getting comfortable now after the initial awkwardness. “So, Annabeth. Tell me about yourself.”

Annabeth was annoyed to find herself blushing. She had sworn just two hours ago to hate this stupid teenage emperor and his stupid policies and his stupid lack of interest in his people. But no one had told her that his eyes were so _green_. “Well, I’m the Princess of Athens, and-”

“No no no.” Percy cut her off with a shake of his head. “I know the Princess of Athens. She’s boring. Tell me about Annabeth.”

Annabeth blushed again. _Gah_. “Okay. I’m Annabeth. I like food and sailing and swimming and my best friend Piper and beating people in footraces and proving people wrong and reading. Yes, I know how to read. And yes, I am probably smarter than you. I think you should know that, seeing how we’re going to be spending the rest of our lives together.”

Annabeth checked the words over in her head and found at least five things wrong with them. But Percy had been shockingly candid with her. Why shouldn’t she be shockingly candid with him?

Percy laughed. “We’re going to have fun together, aren’t we?”

Annabeth smirked. “I should hope so. Now tell me. Who is Percy?”

Percy tucked his knees up against his chest and laced his fingers over them. “I’m Percy. I like food and sailing and swimming and hunting monsters with the Twelfth Legion and messing with Reyna and chariot racing. I hate reading and you probably are smarter than me.”

Annabeth leaned back and smiled. “Hi Percy.”

Percy’s voice was barely a whisper. “Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sally Jackson, didn't ya know. She'll be featured in upcoming chapters. This chapter was kiiiiiind of boring, I know, but it had to happen. I guarantee more drama in the next one. The newlyweds will be making their first public outing, and things will NOT go according to plan ;)


	4. It Sets a Precedent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Percy
> 
> Octavian has an idea on how to "introduce Annabeth to Roman culture". Percy doesn't approve. But what's an emperor to do when Octavian has a life-ruining secret under his belt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING: mention of violence/blood/death. Very nondescript/brief, takes up only a few paragraphs towards the end. But if that's the sort of thing that would trigger anyone, just an FYI.
> 
> What's up, everybody. Has anyone listened to the song Crying in the Club by Camila Cabello? It's not that it's the best song ever, it's just that it's stuck in my head at the time of writing this note. Anyways. I'm very excited about this chapter. Angsty Percy struggling with his inner demons is a beautiful beautiful thing. Percabeth is officially married and all bets are off, so my inner evil genius is having a HEYDAY with the possibilities. Okay, I don't have much else to say. Go read this chapter and have tons of fun. Back next week (hopefully) with another chapter! As always, let me know what you think!  
> ♡ aschuylersister

Percy woke up to the warm feeling of sunlight on his face, and the distant chirping of birds in the trees. A breeze blew through the room, rustling the curtains and dancing along his skin. He was on top of the covers, which he thought was kind of odd, but he assumed he had fallen asleep there accidentally last night. Without opening his eyes, he stretched muscles stiff from sleep. As his arm slid across the blanket, it made contact with something solid and warm. Percy jerked his hand back, and his eyes flew open. There was a _girl_ in his bed, a sleeping girl with golden curls and pink lips. For a solid moment, Percy was very confused. And then the events of the previous night came back in a dreamlike succession: the wedding, the disastrous banquet, the conversation that had ended in the two of them hesitantly agreeing to share the bed. Percy had volunteered to take the sofa, but Annabeth hadn’t wanted him to do that, but Percy hadn’t wanted Annabeth to take the sofa, and round and round they went. So they both fell asleep in the bed, Percy on top of the blankets and Annabeth under them to avoid any uncomfortable accidental contact in the throes of sleep. She was still asleep right now, apparently in the middle of a dream. Percy watched her for a moment. Her eyelashes fluttered and her eyebrows furrowed, and her entire body twitched. Percy tensed, poised to wake her up if the dream dipped into a nightmare, but Annabeth’s face relaxed and Percy laid back with a sigh.

Two days ago, Percy felt the weight of the world balancing the responsibility of his mother and his friends against the responsibility of the empire, taking into account that pesky secret. _Now_ an alliance with Greece was quite literally in his hands, in the form of a bride he was now responsible for caring for. He had no doubt that Annabeth could take care of herself, and that’s what worried him. Outside of demigods in the legion, independent women were _not_ something the Romans looked favorably on. Percy would be expected to keep his wife under control. And he was quite certain that if he expressed this to Annabeth, she would cut his throat in his sleep.

 _Rap rap rap_. Three sharp knocks on the door. Percy vaulted up and out of bed in seconds, hoping to speak to whoever it was without waking Annabeth.

 _Rap rap ra_ -

Percy threw the door open in exasperation. Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano leaned casually against the door frame with a smirk on her face, arms folded over her breastplate. Her two prized hunting dogs, Aurum and Argentum, chased each other in zigzag patterns by her feet, snapping playfully.

“There's the newlywed!”

“Shhh,” Percy hissed, grabbing Reyna by the collar and dragging her into the hallway. His two personal guards, brothers Travis and Connor Stoll, stood at attention on either sides of the door. The two sons of Hermes were mischievous to say the least, but they weren’t loyal to Octavian and they were fierce fighters in the legion. They served Percy well. “You’re dismissed,” he told them. “Come back in…” He looked questioningly at Reyna.

“Five minutes,” she finished. “This won’t take long.” Travis and Connor nodded to Percy, grinned at each other, and took off at a speed that usually meant they had something up their sleeves. Alone, he turned to Reyna. His best friend grinned at him infuriatingly. “Is she still asleep? Did I wake you up? You guys up late last night?”

Percy rolled his eyes, rubbing Aurum’s head as the silvery greyhound nosed up against his hand. The two dogs were generally feared at the palace. They had reddish eyes and bronze teeth, and they had just kind of appeared one day and made themselves Reyna’s guard dogs. They usually tolerated Percy. They usually tried to kill everyone else. “Who made you the official interrogator? To answer your _many_ questions, yes she's still asleep, no you did not wake me up, and we were up late. _Talking._ ”

Reyna nodded, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Well, I'd love to hear about your exploits in detail, but I'm here with news. Bad news.”

Percy groaned. “What did Octavian do now?”

“Extended an invitation. To all the senior officials to join him for breakfast. That includes you and your lovely bride.”

Percy was developing a headache. “Usually an invitation implies the option to _decline_.”

Reyna shrugged. “Okay, then it wasn’t an invitation. It was an order. Although why you insist upon us obeying all of all of Octavian’s orders, I'm not sure.”

Something painful bit at Percy’s heart. “I told you Reyna, it's complicated.” Curled at Reyna’s feet, Argentum raised his head and growled in Percy’s direction.

The best word to sum up Reyna’s gaze was _disappointed_. “You’ll tell me someday, Percy. But for now,” Reyna said, clasping his shoulder firmly. “I trust you.”

Percy's smile was tired. “Thank you.”

Reyna returned it. “Go wake up your wife. Good luck with it - I've only seen her once, but I get the feeling she's a firecracker.”

Percy rolled his eyes back in his head. “You have no idea.”

Reyna turned and started back down the hall at a military march, her cloak flying out behind her and the iron bits on her sandals click-clacking against the floor, Aurum and Argentum loping along at her heels.

Percy sighed, and let himself back into his room. Annabeth was awake. She was sitting on top of the sheets, long legs folded underneath her, eyes narrowed. When she saw Percy she sighed.

“Who was that?”

“Reyna,” was all Percy said, and Annabeth didn’t ask any other questions.

“I was kind of hoping this was all a dream,” she confessed, and despite the fact that the comment wasn’t exactly flattering, Percy concurred.

“Me too,” he replied. “Get dressed. Octavian is hosting a breakfast. We’re _invited_.”

Annabeth grimaced. “Lovely.” She didn’t move from the bed, and Percy suddenly realized that noblewomen usually had help getting ready for the day.

“Our staff is more than extensive. I can send for a handmaiden, if you’d like.”

Annabeth shook her head. “I brought my own handmaiden with me. Piper. I told her to come find me this morning. I’m not sure if she’s just delayed, or…”

Percy frowned. “I’ll send someone to look for her. My guards would never let her in on word alone. They may have even sent her to the dungeons.”

Annabeth opened her mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by another knock at the door. Before Percy could go over and open it, the door flew open on its own - the knock was clearly a mere introduction to the person behind it.

Percy reached for his gladius, but the first person who stepped into the room was merely the girl Percy recognized from being with Annabeth at the wedding last night - a pretty Greek with chocolate braids and tan skin. She gave him and Annabeth a charming smile, and waved forward a myriad of palace servants carrying what looked to Percy like hundreds of trunks.

“Piper!” Annabeth said, not moving to get up.

“Annabeth!” Piper replied, matching Annabeth’s tone. She turned to the first palace staff at the door. “You can put those over there.” She pointed to the corner of the room.

“What’s all this?” Percy asked incredulously.

Annabeth quirked her lips at him in not-quite-a-smile. “My stuff.”

Percy stormed over to the door and poked his head outside. “Travis! Connor! Why did you let her in? I mean, it’s fine, but, you didn’t know her. It’s a security risk!”

Travis shook his head like he was coming out of a dream. “What?”

Connor had a goofy grin on his face. “She asked.”

Percy sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay. Next time, use a more thorough vetting process.” Percy made his way back inside, where servants were still setting up trunks, but Annabeth and Piper were gone. “Where’d they go?” he asked one servant standing closest to him.

“Into another room, my lord,” he replied, bowing slightly.

Percy sighed. He decided against going after them, and opted to give them some privacy. He went into another room himself to get dressed, which took all of five minutes.

He came back into the main bedroom, and the servants were gone, replaced by a tower of luggage that took up an entire corner of the room. He half-heartedly wondered where Annabeth was going to put all of it. Now that there were two people living there, he was going to have to add more rooms to his suite. Maybe even another bed, depending on how much he and Annabeth did or didn’t like each other. But he’d have to request that discreetly. Octavian would have a fit. Annabeth reappeared with Piper at her heels a moment later. She was dressed in a traditional Roman _stola_ , the same color blue as the sky, sleeveless and belted at the hips with a thin gold chain. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, secured by a solid gold clasp. It was hard for Percy to deny that she looked good. Piper was grinning back and forth from Percy to Annabeth with a twinkle in her eye.

“She can’t come with us,” Percy informed Annabeth.

Annabeth’s soft smile blew away like a cloud. “The hell she can’t-”

“It’s okay, Annabeth,” Piper said, and the sound of her voice made Percy want to instantly relax. It was like honey, and he suddenly understood why the Stoll brothers let her in without question. “I’ll find something to do.”

Annabeth huffed. “Fine. What is this top secret breakfast for anyways?”

Percy shrugged. “It’s some kind of meeting for the senior officials. And we’re already late.” He offered Annabeth his elbow, and she took it.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she said as they walked down the corridor, “because I do feel that I should be present at any meeting for senior officials. But aren’t you Romans convinced that women shouldn’t be present at any kind of strategic planning session? I know they’re barred from the Senate.”

Percy shrugged again. “This is probably an informal meeting. You’re right - I doubt Octavian would request your presence at anything _really_ important - his words, not mine. But great strides for women have been made under Reyna’s praetorship. And her presence is required at all strategy sessions. I’m sure she’ll fight for you to be included.”

Annabeth kept her eyes fixed ahead with a mysterious smile. “Good.”

Percy had forgotten to ask Reyna exactly where Octavian expected them to meet, but he assumed that it would be where the last state dinner was held - Octavian’s suite. He had an actual banquet hall in his room in the palace, which was most certainly not granted with Percy’s blessing. It was where he led Annabeth right now. As they stepped into the room, Percy realized that they were the last to arrive. Octavian, Reyna, Jason, Frank, and a few other assorted centurions and senators were already seated around the table. Percy escorted Annabeth to the only open seats, which, unfortunately, happened to be right next to Octavian. Percy figured the gentlemanly thing to do would be to take the seat next to Octavian himself (he didn’t hate his wife enough to throw her to the wolves _yet_ ), but Octavian stopped him.

“I’d like to sit next to the Greek,” he told Percy with a frosty smile. “We haven’t had the chance to become… properly acquainted.”

Annabeth eyed Octavian like one would eye a poisonous snake, but she sat down gingerly. She didn’t touch her plate, but she casually rested her hand on her silverware, fingers curling around the handle of the knife. Percy absentmindedly thought that he ought to teach her some basic maneuvers. The likelihood of her using them against him, however, was unfortunately very high.

Octavian, for his part, was engaged in a conversation with the senator to his right, so Percy turned to his food. Reyna was on the same side of the table as him, a few people down, so he could only see her if he leaned forward and craned his neck. He tried it, and found that she was doing the exact same thing to see him. He waved at her and gave her his best annoying smile. She rolled her eyes and threw something at his head, which Percy took as his cue to go back to eating. To Percy’s dismay, when he turned back to Annabeth, she was talking to Octavian, who was essentially grilling her about the state of Athenian politics. To Annabeth’s credit, she had intelligent yet politically crafted answers to all of them, which seemed to infuriate Octavian. As Octavian’s voice rose, Annabeth’s followed it, until the entire room was silent, watching the two of them go back and forth like a tennis match.

“And the Athenian senate?” he demanded.

"Quite well, my lord,” Annabeth said neutrally. “They’ve just announced the construction of a new aqueduct.”

Percy knew the kind of answers Octavian wanted. He either wanted an answer that would convey the weakness of the Athenian senate, which would secure his position as the superior empire, or Annabeth not to know the answer, which would secure his position as the superior human being. And Annabeth wasn’t giving him either. Percy bit back a grin.

“Well then,” Octavian said with a frosty smile. “Aren’t you the political one?”

Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “Why would you have invited me here if you didn’t think I was?”

A pin could have dropped and it would have sounded like an earthquake, it was so quiet. Octavian stood up with a jerk. “Caesar Perseus,” he announced formally. “ _A word_.” Annabeth turned her head to look at Percy with wide grey eyes, which he could only think reminded him of an owl. Reyna started to stand up, but Octavian waved her down. “Your presence is not required, praetor.”

Percy stood up very unwillingly. “Certainly, Pontifex.”

He followed Octavian into another room, as everyone else resumed their meal.

No sooner were they alone when Octavian turned on him. “What was _that_?”

Percy rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say. She’s smart. She’s a daughter of Minerva, what did you expect?”

“The goddess of _crafts_ ,” Octavian exploded, and Percy decided that now was probably not the best time to remind Octavian that in Athenian culture, Minerva was also the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. “How _dare_ she speak to me that way, how _dare_ she-

“She didn’t even say anything that bad,” Percy protested, but Octavian cut him off in his tracks with a glare.

“It sets a _precedent_ ,” Octavian hissed. “If she thinks she can get away with mouthing off in front of every senior official in Rome, what else is she going to try? Greeks, I tell you. Have no idea how to keep their women under _control_.”

Percy’s skin felt tight and uncomfortable. He considered his options. He could punch Octavian in the nose. He could jump off a rooftop. “I’ll speak to her,” he said finally.

Octavian grinned the grin of a madman. “You’ll do more than that. You will keep your wife under control. Or your _secret_ will become the executioner’s latest project.” Octavian’s eyes lit up. “Which reminds me. I have the _perfect_ way to give her a proper introduction into… Roman culture.” He whirled back into the banquet hall, Percy on his heels. “ _Friends_ ,” he said warmly, his arms extended like he wanted to give everybody a hug. Or get them in a chokehold. “Caesar Perseus and I were discussing the best way to make our guest feel _welcome_ here in Rome! And what better way than for her and the Caesar to host today’s Games? Her first public appearance, hm?”

Around the table, most people clapped and nodded. Reyna and Frank exchanged dark looks, and Annabeth overtly gripped her knife. Percy felt his stomach clench. He _hated_ the Games, and he avoided hosting them whenever possible. Killing people for sport? Not his style. But Octavian thought it was a great way to unite the people. He hosted one almost every month.

“ _Fine_ ,” he muttered. “Come on, Annabeth.” He pulled Annabeth up out of her seat abruptly, and the knife clattered to the table where she dropped it in surprise. “See you at the Games,” he told Octavian, barely containing his anger. Across the room, water began spilling out of the top of a vase, and Percy desperately tried to control his emotions, before Octavian noticed.

He stalked from the room, Annabeth on his heels. “What _was_ that?” she demanded, one hand on his elbow to slow him down. “The _Games_ . Like, the gladiators? The killing people for _fun_?”

Percy stopped and whirled on her, and she drew back. “Listen to me. You’re here to nod and smile and let Octavian think you’re some pretty little nobody whose sole purpose is to smile on my arm. You say ‘Yes Pontifex’ and ‘No Pontifex’ and not much else, or he will destroy your life as well as mine.”

Annabeth folded her arms over her stomach, glaring at him. “It seems to me like you rank higher than this… this... “ Annabeth broke off in a string of Greek curse words that for the most part went over Percy’s head. “Why do you have to do everything he says, much less _me_? 

Percy ground his teeth. First Reyna, now Annabeth. If they both kept pushing this issue, he was going to have an aneurism. “That is not your concern. So _drop it_. _I_ know that you’re smart. Probably smarter than most of the men in there. But you _can’t_ let Octavian know. Understand? 

Annabeth curled her lip. “And if I don’t?”

Percy searched for a threat. He couldn’t physically threaten her, after his experience with his parents that just didn’t sit right with him. What could he say that would show her the gravity of the situation? The truth. “Then Octavian will kill me,” he said finally. “And you’ll be alone, with no allies, in the most dangerous city on earth.”

Annabeth held his gaze. “We’ll see about that.”

...........................

Percy sat in an uncomfortable marble throne, high above the Colosseum, his eyes closed and his back rigid. Thoughts were wearing grooves in his head as they ran back and forth at a million miles an hour. He hated this and he hated himself and why was Annabeth wearing  _ that _ . It was the most ostentatious dress he’d ever seen anyone wear, and she’d done her hair in a Greek style, complete with a jeweled headdress. It didn’t even seem like Annabeth’s style, and when he’d asked her and Piper the reason, they’d simply rolled their eyes at him and informed him that it was a politically calculated move.

She looked noticeable. She looked memorable. She looked like a goddess.

Percy himself, weighed down by a sea of purple and gold ceremonial armor, hated the rough scrape of the metal against the throne. He sat in between Octavian and Annabeth - Octavian being the only other person in the box whose seat was level with his.  _ That _ really made Percy crazy.

The stadium was packed with people, their voices blending like a beehive, each one eager for a glimpse of their new empress. Percy slowly understood why Annabeth wore what she did. She looked terrifying. People would be talking about her for years. Truth would morph with myth, until anonymity worked  _ for _ Annabeth, and she became not only the daughter of the goddess but the goddess herself. That’s how rumors worked. Some rumors about Percy himself were a little too truthful for comfort.

Before long, the orators began speaking in unison, their voices carrying over the now-silent crowd. “All the way from Athens, we extend welcome to our new empress! Augusta Annabeth!” The crowd erupted, some in cheers, some in boos, but mostly cheers, and Annabeth watched it all with a steely gaze.

Percy stood, and Annabeth graciously took his arm. They walked to the edge of the box, and Percy took a cluster of grapes in his fist and held them out over the edge. “To the gods!” he yelled, and the crowd took up the cry, echoing it for long moments afterward. Percy crushed them in his hand, the purple juice staining the sand below.

“For your pleasure,” the orators cried, “we bring to you a reenactment of the battle against the  _ wicked _ Celts, under our late Caesar Gabriel!” 

The gates groaned and creaked as they opened, and a number of terrified Celtic slaves entered the arena, and Percy couldn’t look away. Mostly men, a few women. One caught Percy’s eye. It was a  _ girl _ . No older than twelve, she gripped her mother’s hand and looked around with dark, terrified eyes.

Somewhere next to him, Annabeth gasped. “She’s- she’s- a child!” his wife muttered to no one in particular. “This isn’t right.” Percy didn’t look at her, but he could feel the weight of her stare. “Percy, you have to stop this.”

Percy looked at the girl. She was just a child. His heart clenched with indignation and rage. He opened his mouth, taking a breath. “Octavian I-”

“Dowager Empress! How lovely of you to join us.”

At that moment, Sally entered the box, graciously accepting Octavian’s proffered hand as he escorted her to the low throne at his left.

All the air left Percy’s throat. All the words that bubbled beneath the surface died. He blinked back hot tears of shame and rage and kept his eyes fixed on a point directly above the Coliseum. The sky was so blue. Almost as blue as the sea. He wished he was there right now.

Annabeth tugged on his sleeve. “Percy! Do something!”

The gates creaked open again, and gladiators dressed in poor renditions of legion garb spilled out into the arena. The orators began yelling, but it was all white noise. Percy closed his eyes. “No, Annabeth.”

Annabeth’s grip on his arm turned to iron. “You do something. Or I will.”

That got his attention. He half opened his eyes and looked at his wife, the righteous fury on her face making him feel lower than low. “What would you like me to do, Annabeth? Stop the Games?”

“Yes,” Annabeth snapped. “This is barbaric. Even you should see that.”

Her voice went up on the last syllable. Octavian turned his head, glowering, and from her post in the corner Reyna instinctively touched her gladius.

Octavian’s words rang in Percy’s head. _You keep your wife under control. Or your secret will become the executioner’s latest project._

“Annabeth,” Percy said, using the voice he reserved for traitorous legionnaires and Jason when he stepped out of line with Reyna. “If you say another word, so help me, you won’t like what happens next.”

Annabeth’s lip curled. He could see her grey eyes flickering, trying to assess if there was weight behind his threat.

From the arena, there was the sickening sound of a weapon hitting a body. A roar went up from the crowd. Percy and Annabeth both turned. The Celtic girl fell to the dust in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes were still open. Bile rose in Percy’s throat.

Annabeth let go of Percy’s arm. He hadn’t even realized she was still holding onto it. She abruptly stood up before Percy could yank her back down. “Excuse me,” she said, not just to Percy but to everyone in the box, her voice colder than ice. “I forgot something in my room.”

She whirled around without waiting for permission, her blonde braid flipping from over her shoulder to down her back. The look she gave Percy before she left, he thought, was in that very moment worse than anything Octavian could ever do to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like how emperors from the time period I'm working with were stylized as Caesar [insert name], their wives were stylized as Augusta [insert name]. So whenever Annabeth is referred to as Augusta Annabeth, it's basically the equivalent of Percy being referred to as Caesar Perseus.  
> Also, the part about crushing grapes to start the Games is something I'm pretty sure is right. Sources seem to vary, but that's the one I went with. It seemed best for writing purposes.


	5. I Want You to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Annabeth
> 
> In which Annabeth deals with the aftermath of the Games, overhears some things she probably wasn't supposed to overhear, and finds help in unexpected places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ever just randomly hit with a tidal wave of PJO feels? Because same. I love all of Rick Riordan's books, but nothing will ever top the original five.
> 
> Good gracious. I set out to write this fic with the intent of having lots of cute and fluffy Percabeth moments. And here I am going super ANGSTY, you guys. If you pay attention to the comments on this fic, I promised some folks that I would be going emotional in this chapter. You wanted emotion. YOU GET EMOTION. Oh well. Drama makes for a good read too. I promise that things will get happier soon. But not TOO happy. If everyone’s favorite monster Uncle Rick can send Percabeth into Tartarus (spoiler for Mark of Athena, but come on, it’s been out for ages) then I CAN MAKE SAD STUFF HAPPEN TOO. I’m particularly proud of this chapter, so DEFINITELY let me know what you think. Back soon(ish)!  
> ♡ aschuylersister

Annabeth prided herself on being a person who never cried. Tears were a clear sign of weakness and femininity and all those things she had trained herself to avoid in order to garner respect as a leader. She hated the girl she saw when she looked in the mirror. Princess-y blonde curls and full pink lips and watery grey eyes that looked dangerously close to tears far too often. Why couldn't she look like Thalia, or even Piper, or any girl who looked like she could command power and respect and fear.

Percy could have told her that her eyes were two of the most frightening things he'd ever seen in his life. But Annabeth wasn't speaking to Percy.

Lost in the throes of sleep, Annabeth was seeing her again. The Celtic girl. Those haunting dark eyes seemed to peer sadly into her soul. _You could have done more_ . _You could have saved me_.

She reached out, ghostly fingers reaching for Annabeth. _Come with me_.

Annabeth awoke with a blood-curdling scream, jolting straight up in bed and clutching her chest, the icy shadow of those small hands still curling around her heart.

The same as he had done the past three nights in a row, Percy burst in, gladius in hand, eyes making a quick scan for the invisible foe. And the same as he had done the past three nights in a row, Percy sheathed his sword and looked at Annabeth with eyes almost as sad as the girl he had allowed to die.

“Another nightmare?”

Annabeth nodded.

A pause.

“You know I’m sorry.”

Annabeth sat back against the headboard and rubbed her eyes. “You know that doesn’t make it better.”

Percy scuffed his toe against the floor and gave her a tired smile. “Good night, Annabeth. Pleasant dreams.”

He left, and Annabeth pantomimed throwing a knife at his back. She couldn’t even look at him without feeling her blood boil. This had been their pattern, ever since the Games. She couldn’t help but feel that Octavian _knew_ that something like this would happen, and that was _precisely_ why he orchestrated it all in the first place. But it had done its job. The damage was done. No one had forced Percy to stay silent. Octavian hadn’t forced Percy to say silent.

Or maybe he had, in a way that Annabeth couldn’t yet comprehend. But it all seemed so simple to her. What did Octavian have over his head that could be worth the life of a _child_?

The night of the games, in a fit of anger, Annabeth had kicked him out of his own room. In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the healthiest, smartest, or fairest option for dealing with it, but she couldn’t stand to be near him. Fortunately, the palace was large enough that they could go most of the day without seeing each other. Even dinners he avoided, staying out late hunting with Reyna and Jason and Frank and Hazel. It was only at night, when he prowled about the suite like some creature of the night, that Annabeth ever felt his presence. He respected her wishes and never actually came into the bedroom, though. Unless she screamed. Unless she was having a nightmare. Unless she was seeing _her_.

Piper thought she was overreacting.

 _“Maybe he has reasons, Annabeth,” she pleaded. “Good reasons. You haven’t actually_ talked _to him, so how do you know? You’re going to be married to him forever. You can’t keep this up. You’re just stalling, and making it worse.”_

Thalia thought she should kill him in his sleep. Annabeth would have listened to Thalia, only Percy never seemed to sleep these days. All night every night, as she drifted in and out of sleep, she could hear him in the other room, always pacing, always up.

Annabeth’s days had seemed to blend into a monotonous haze of _Percy this_ and _Percy that_ , so she was grateful for the distraction when Leo finally arrived.

“ _Princessa_ ,” he yelled dramatically, sweeping into the palace with a gust of sea air. His cheek was stained with oil, and his grin was as cocky as ever. Annabeth swept him up in a hug. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, pulling back with a grin. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I have that effect on the ladies, but never _you_ , Annabeth. What’s wrong? Roman life not treatin’ you so well?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, still holding onto Leo’s forearms. “You have _no_ idea.”

Leo twisted his mouth sympathetically. “Like I said. _Argo II_. Fastest ship in the Mediterranean. Spain by Thursday.”

Annabeth opened her mouth. Because she was tempted to take his deal. She really was. But as the word _yes_ hovered on the tip of her tongue, something else hovered on the fringes of her mind. A memory. A white palace on a cliff over the sea, her two little half-brothers playing under the olive tree in the garden, her father coming up the steps with a grin on his face. _“Annabeth,”_ he says, extending his arms. _“Thank you.”_ Annabeth’s heart clenches. _“If it wasn’t for you, we’d be at war with Rome right now. I just received correspondence from their Pontifex, Octavian. Caesar Perseus will be happy to receive you as his bride._ Thank you _.”_ Annabeth’s heart shrivels up, and her stomach lurches, and her soul has never felt so small. But the way her father is looking at her, the pride in his eyes. Like she’s finally done something _right_ . Like she’s not just the freak, the source of all his headaches, the only remnant he has left from his tryst with Athena, the painful reminder that he dared to love a goddess, the child whose only barrier between royalty and illegitimacy is the owl burned into her skin. The words bounce around in her head. _“If it wasn’t for you, we’d be at war with Rome right now.”_ So she smiles. She seems to be doing that a lot, lately. Smiling. She only wishes that it meant something.

Back in the present, Annabeth smiled at Leo with the same sad smile she gave him on the docks of Athens. “Thank you. I really wish I could.”

Leo looked around. “So where’s the husband? I’d love to meet him.”

Annabeth scowled. “Trust me. You don’t.”

Leo’s eyebrows furrowed in question, but before he could open his mouth, there was movement in one of the corridors. “Leo Valdez, is that you?”

Leo whirled. “Pipes!”

The two collided in an embrace, and Annabeth faded into the background, lost in her head, drowning in a sea of her own thoughts.

……………………

Annabeth both loved and hated the palace library. Chestnut shelves that spiraled up to ceilings as high as the sky were crammed full of knowledge. It was just off of the main garden, and the sounds of fountains and the scent of the greenery wafted in open doors and made it a pleasant place to dream and work. The vast space contained almost as many scrolls as the library at Athens, but less classics and philosophy and more things of math and strategy. Things she’d never been exposed to. Things she was itching to get her hands on. That is, if it wasn’t for the palace librarian. Ella was a strange, nervous soul, with witchy red hair and coppery eyes, who seemed to float around the vast expanse like she was waiting for something to jump out at her. She was always on hand to assist Annabeth when she came in. And that was exactly the problem.

She caught Annabeth with a few mathematics scrolls in her hands, and started to pull her hair out. “No, no,” she hissed. “Augusta Annabeth must put those back! Must not be seen with them!”

Annabeth scowled instinctively. “Why not? I’m the Augusta. I’ll do as I please, thank you very much.” She started to brush past Ella, but the woman caught her arm with both hands, long nails digging into her skin.

“No,” she shrieked. “Ella is under strict orders. Pontifex Octavian. Women must not take scrolls from that section. _Especially_ not you. Ella will lose her job. Ella will be tried for treason!”

Annabeth’s heart twisted. She felt sorry for Ella, but mostly she just wanted to punch Octavian in the face. She considered taking the scrolls anyways. Let Octavian come for her. Let him try and take them away. But she looked into the tearful coppery eyes in front of her, and realized that she didn’t want to be responsible for whatever happened to Ella if Annabeth stepped out of line.

“Fine,” she sighed, handing the scrolls back to Ella, who sighed in relief and scurried away. Annabeth looked around wildly. A stack of works by Homer sat on a nearby desk. She smiled involuntarily as her mind flashed back to hours spent in her father’s quarters, digging through his classics. Homer was always his favorite. He read _The Iliad_ out loud to her as a child. Annabeth scooped a handful off the table and darted out of the library, not quite sure what she was going to do, but knowing that she was going to make Octavian pay.

Annabeth did _not_ want to bump into her husband right outside. They collided nearly head first, and Annabeth dropped her armful of scrolls. It was the most cliched meeting in the book, and Annabeth felt her cheeks burn as she bent to pick them up, ducking fast to avoid his eyes. He crouched down next to each other, their hands brushing as they reached for the same scroll.

“Let me help,” Percy said, his voice soft and low, and Annabeth nearly choked. 

_So cliche._

“I don’t need your help,” Annabeth snapped, gathering up her scrolls with a jerk. She began to storm away, but to her dismay, Percy followed her. He was dressed in full armor, not the ceremonial stuff but the standard legion gear. His hair was slicked back with perspiration, and one of the laces on his sandals was undone. Annabeth's eyes dropped to it, about to say something, but she was annoyed to find herself distracted by his calf muscles, so she snapped her mouth shut and kept walking.

“What are you reading?” he asked, his voice earnest, and Annabeth scowled distrustfully.

“Homer.”

Percy’s eyes brightened. Every time they brightened or darkened, the shade of green seemed to shift too. Right now they were the pale green of spring grass. Like Annabeth had thought on their wedding day. Not the eyes of a mortal. “ _The Iliad_ or _The Odyssey_?”

Annabeth huffed. “He wrote _other_ things.”

Percy pointed to the scroll on top of her stack. “That says _The Iliad_.”

Annabeth scowled again. “So maybe I read some of his more popular things. I’m surprised you read _at all_.”

Percy shrugged. “I don’t usually. _The Iliad_ is one of the few books that peaked my interest throughout my… _extensive_ education.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “At least you _had_ an education.”

Percy frowned. “I thought noblewomen had tutors too.”

Annabeth curled her lip. “Sure I had tutors. I can paint you a picture. I can play a tune on the lyre. I can dance. I can speak a few languages. But I can’t study anything that I want. I can’t study anything that _you_ can.”

Percy bit his lip. “What do you want to study?”

Annabeth was just about done with this conversation. She still couldn’t look at him without seeing that _girl_ . But he was making an effort, she could see it in his eyes. And maybe Piper was right. Maybe she didn’t want to be alone forever. Maybe she didn’t want to hate him forever. “Architecture. I want to study architecture. I want to _build_ things, I want to build things that last.”

Percy ran a hand through his hair. “Architecture… That’s… That’s math, science, art. Why do you have _The Iliad_?”

Annabeth tried to hide a snarl. “ _Because_ . _Octavian_. Has apparently banned me from all but a few scrolls.” But Annabeth must have had an easy-to-read look in her eyes. When she took a step forward, Percy swiftly moved to block her path.

“Annabeth,” he said warily. “What are you going to do?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “What do you think? I’m going to go give Octavian a piece of my mind.”

Percy’s face flashed with alarm. “Annabeth,” he said, his voice rising. “Don’t.”

He took a step forward and Annabeth didn’t move. “Get out of my way,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t care if you’re the Caesar. I’m a daughter of Athena. Get out of my way, or you won’t like what happens,” she growled, quoting Percy’s threat from the Games, which made him recoil like she’d slapped him.

Percy’s expression was pleading. “You don’t know what he’s capable of, Annabeth. Confronting him is a _bad_ idea. He could _hurt_ you.”

Annabeth felt numb. It was a terrible feeling, the way her heart ceased to beat and color seemed to lose meaning and the way she felt _nothing_ for the boy standing in front of her. Certainly not love or affection, but she didn’t feel hatred or malice either. She just felt _tired_.

“You forfeited your right to care,” she said, her own voice sounding foreign and detached. “You forfeited your right to care about _me_ , the moment you let that girl die.” She looked Percy dead in the eyes. “As if you ever cared at all.” She could see that she hurt him, and she was glad. She brushed past him, allowing her shoulder to push his on purpose, and this time, he let her go.

It didn’t take Annabeth long to find Octavian’s quarters. She just went back to Percy’s room, and then retraced the steps they took to that disastrous breakfast in his suite. The door was slightly ajar, and Annabeth crept up to it slowly, pausing at the crack and peering inside. She couldn’t see Octavian, but she could hear him. It sounded like he was having a conversation with someone. Octavian’s voice was familiar to her, but the other voice was gravelly and foreign. She knew with certainty that she’d never heard it before in her life.

“All the pieces are in place,” Octavian said, his voice dark with mirth. “Those _fools_. None of them have a clue.”

“You’re _sure_ Caesar Perseus is in the dark,” the other voice cautioned. “You know how loyal Praetor Ramirez-Arellano is to him. If he gets wind of our plan-”

“Bah,” Octavian scoffed. “He’s a foolish mortal. He doesn’t have the gods on his side. Not like _me_ . I am a descendant of _Apollo_. He’s too preoccupied with his own parents to worry about our deal.”

“His wife,” the other voice argued, and Annabeth’s heart stopped. “She’s more demigod than you, Pontifex. She could-”

“She’s a daughter of _Minerva_ ,” Octavian barked, his voice dripping with disdain, and Annabeth felt her hands ball into fists. “She’s a pawn with a mouth. Nothing more.”

Annabeth’s blood boiled. _Pawn with a mouth_ , she thought indignantly. _I’ll show them_ . But bursting in now would _not_ be strategic. She needed to wait, and hear as much of the conversation as possible before even thinking about making her presence known.

“Back to the topic at hand,” the mysterious voice growled. “I spoke with their leader just yesterday. He has agreed to your deal. He waits for your signal.”

 _Their leader_ ? Annabeth’s brain spun. _Who is their leader? Who is ‘they’?_

Octavian chuckled. “Their job will be so _easy_ . It hasn’t even been a week, and his marriage is already crumbling. I barely had to try. I _knew_ putting the girl in the arena would send them both over the edge.” Octavian chuckled darkly. “What power is found in a single secret.” Annabeth had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. The chuckle stopped abruptly. “Wait,” Octavian hissed. “I thought I heard something.” Both voices quieted, and Annabeth heard footsteps approaching the door. Before she could take another breath, she turned on her heel and fled.

Sprinting down the twists and turns of the palace halls, footsteps echoing the drumbeat of her own heart, Annabeth’s mind wrestled with the conversation she had just heard. It sounded ominous, and important, and like it would greatly affect her own life. It _especially_ sounded like it could endanger Percy’s, and if nothing else, Percy’s death could mean the end of an already precarious Greek-Roman alliance. When she was sure no one was behind her, Annabeth pulled up short behind a column and sank to the ground, a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Percy wasn’t blameless. But Octavian clearly had a large hand in the events of the Games. And in that moment, she realized something else. Her relationship with Percy was quite literally Greece’s relationship with Rome. If she incurred Roman wrath, her country, her family, would suffer. Percy offered friendship. In a city of wolves, Annabeth was in absolutely no position to turn it away.

Later that night, when Annabeth came back from dinner, a bundle of scrolls containing some of Quintilian’s teachings on geometry was on her bed. Her heart in her throat, Annabeth pushed one over with her fingertips until she found the sheet of papyrus where Ella's chicken-scratch handwriting showed who the scroll was checked out under. A long list of smudged people, until she got to the newest one, the name whose lines were clean and sharp. _Caesar Perseus_. Annabeth sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand on the scrolls and one on curled into the sheets, gripping them like a lifeline. She let her eyes glaze over as she stared out the window, thoughts adrift and unhinged, and she stayed like this until Piper found her and put her to bed.

……………………

Late in the evening, when the dying sun created a shadow out of everything that stood more than an inch off the ground, Annabeth went for a walk. She didn’t bother to put her hair up, and her curls blew uncharacteristically loose around her shoulders. She’d forgotten a cloak, and goosebumps made the hair stand up on her arms. She didn’t care. Her life was in a downward spiral, and she was completely alone, and she wished the wind would snatch her up and blow her away.

“Annabeth!” Annabeth turned at her name, and saw Reyna jogging across the courtyard, a hand extended in greeting. She came up alongside her and smiled. “You okay? You look kind of… lost.”

In her head, Annabeth smiled. She shook her head and assured Reyna of her sanity, and the two parted ways.

In reality, Annabeth opened her mouth and found she couldn’t take in any air. “I-”

Reyna seemed to know. “Come on,” she said, taking Annabeth’s arm. “I know a place.”

Reyna led her away from the palace. A little ways outside the official grounds, on a small hill, a different kind of garden beckoned. This one wasn’t tamed by servants, grown to please Octavian and other palace inhabitants. This was a wild garden, the only evidence of human interference a fountain with a ridiculous-looking statue of the god Bacchus in the center. He stood extended on one leg, spurting water out of puckered lips.

"The garden of Bacchus," Reyna said, looking not at Annabeth, but out at the horizon where the sun melted into a red cloud of fire. "My happy place."

“I would think the gods might find that offensive,” Annabeth commented drily as she motioned to the fountain, problems forgotten for the moment.

Reyna’s lips quirked up in a smile, not taking her eyes off the fountain. “The gods are kind of ridiculous, sometimes.”

Annabeth laughed out loud. It felt good to laugh. It felt raw. Standing here on top of the world, the wind making her dress billow around her legs and the cold air cleansing her soul, she laughed. A few tears slipped down her cheeks, and she wiped them away. Not before Reyna saw.

“You’re not adapting to Roman life, are you?”

Annabeth gave her a shaky grin. “It’s harder than I thought it would be. I didn’t expect it to be _easy_. But there are… unforeseen circumstances.”

Reyna sat down on the edge of the fountain, and Annabeth sat down next to her. “Percy?” she guessed.

Annabeth smiled without meaning. “I… I guess… I want him to be one or the other. I want him to be hot or cold. Sometimes I like him, sometimes I think he’s nice. But then he goes and does stuff like what he did at the Games, like sitting unflinching when a _child_ was being killed in cold blood. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him, I don’t know if I can get _past_ the fact that he sat there and did _nothing_ when he was the only person who could have really stopped it!”

Reyna looked her in the eyes, her face drawn in an expression Annabeth didn’t understand. “You place all the blame on Percy. _I_ didn’t do anything either.”

“But… you couldn't have done anything,” Annabeth protested. “You're only a praetor. It was Percy’s job, Percy’s responsibility to do something.”

Reyna smiled sadly and shook her head. “No. I believe that everyone has the choice to do _something_. If I wanted to, if I really wanted to, I could have jumped down into that arena and fought off all those gladiators. But what then? I would have been arrested and executed for treason. The girl would have died all the same. Or if I ran, if I rallied the legion behind me? There would be a civil war. Thousands would die. All over one girl. I grieve as you do, Annabeth, but trust me when I say that none of us could have saved her. Trust me when I say that sometimes losing the battle means winning the war.” Reyna and Annabeth were both quiet for a long moment. Annabeth didn't have to ask what war Reyna was referring to. It was Octavian’s war, Octavian and Percy, locked in a struggle for the fate of Rome. And Octavian held some unseen advantage that rendered him the momentary victor. The snippet of conversation she had overheard outside Octavian’s room made that _very_ clear. “Percy is struggling,” Reyna said quietly. “He's trying to do the right thing, he really is.” She looked up at Annabeth suddenly, her eyes a silent plea. “Please don't give up on him yet. You're good for him, in ways that I think both of you have yet to realize.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. “You are a loyal friend, to have been true to him even when he keeps you in the dark.”

Reyna shrugged. “Loyalty is everything in the legion.” Suddenly she smiled, eyes looking off into something Annabeth can't see. “I've known Percy since we were fourteen. I had just been promoted to centurion, he was a skinny kid who could barely stay on his horse. When I met him, I needed him more than he needed me. But he was there for me. Now, it's my turn to be there for him.”

Annabeth studied Reyna’s face. Everything she had overheard from Octavian sat at the edge of her tongue. She _wanted_ to tell Reyna. Maybe Reyna would have some insight that Annabeth didn’t, some piece of the puzzle that would put the words in context. But Annabeth hadn’t _really_ heard that much. Just that Octavian made a deal with someone, and he didn’t want Percy, Reyna or Annabeth to know. They were all just _pawns_ . Until Annabeth found out more, she resolved not to tell anybody. And she _would_ find out what Octavian was up to. That wasn’t even a question.

“Thank you,” she told Reyna. “This helped.”

Reyna smiled back. “Anytime. Like I said. We daughters of war goddesses have to stick together.”

Annabeth’s soul was quiet as she walked back to her room. She was finally starting to refer to it as that in her head. _Her_ room. Hers and Percy’s. He was a stupid teenage emperor. And he was wrong about so many things. But there was good in him yet. Annabeth had long held the belief that marriage should mean _something_. Maybe Percy had greatness in him. Maybe he needed Annabeth’s help to find it.

He was pacing in the bedroom when she opened the door. He saw her and froze, looking vaguely guilty. “Sorry,” he stammered. “I- I’ll go.” He abruptly turned towards the other door, the one leading out into the courtyard, but Annabeth threw a hand up.

“Stop,” she commanded gently. He obeyed, creeping slowly back into the room like a wounded creature. “Stay,” she told him, feeling all the feelings of hurt and confusion and loneliness and despair, yet knowing in her bones that she was doing the right thing. Percy was already killing himself inside. There were no harsh words Annabeth could say that he wasn’t already thinking. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

Percy’s eyes widened, and the only annoying thing that Annabeth could connect the expression with was _baby seal_. Like the ones that used to hang out at the docks in Athens, peering curiously at the ships before darting back into the harbor and out to sea. He took a hesitant step towards Annabeth, before stopping himself. “Really? You mean it?”

Annabeth twisted one side of her mouth up in an attempt at a smile. “Don’t get me wrong. We’ve still got a _lot_ to figure out. And I'm still mad at you. But I want to give this a shot. I really do. So I’d like you to stay here tonight. With me. If you want to, that is.”

Feelings Annabeth couldn’t explain overtook her. She was so _tired_ , she was so _tired_ , she was so _tired_.

 _For Greece_ , she reminded herself. _You’re doing this for Greece_.

Annabeth met his eyes, and the dam broke. She turned away violently, biting down on her hand to keep the tears at bay.

 _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry_.

She’d shed too many tears in and over Rome already.

“Hey,” Percy said, eyes wide. “Hey, it’s okay.” Percy walked the remaining steps it took to get to Annabeth. “You don’t have to cry.”

Annabeth laughed shakily. She didn't _have_ to cry. She'd never had to cry. "I know."

They stood, inches apart, watching each other in tense silence. Annabeth blinked back the tears, silently daring a single one to spill out onto her cheeks. _Crying is weakness and weakness is not for you. Crying is weakness and weakness is not for you_. Percy's features shifted infinitesimally. A black wave of hair fell over one emerald eye, and Annabeth felt the strangest urge to reach up and push it back into place. "It's okay to cry."

Annabeth curled her fingers up, her nails biting into her palms. "I know."

Percy placed a leather-clad hand on her shoulder, and Annabeth stood completely still, afraid to move and mess something up, shoulder dipping under the weight. Slowly, ever so slowly, Percy put his other hand on Annabeth’s other shoulder, balancing them out. His eyes were searching hers, they were asking something. “Is this okay?” he asked. Annabeth could feel his breath on her face. It smelled like grapes. She opened her mouth to reply and found that it was too dry to form words.

_What tears?_

“Yeah.”

Percy pulled her close to him in a hug, and Annabeth’s arms involuntarily snaked around his back, her palms spreading flat over the curve of his spine. Annabeth stood, feeling the warmth of his fingers as they curled into the loose fabric of her _stola_ , the beat of his heart against her chest, the way she could hear every breath and hear his throat constrict when he swallowed. She was too surprised to move. All her systems were in overdrive, and she was sure he could hear her heart drumming in her ears. She tried to ignore the way their bodies seemed to slot perfectly together, like puzzle pieces, like she had been missing something and didn’t know what it was until this exact moment. What were the chances? When in her wildest dreams had she ever expected to feel anything more than friendship for _him_?

“Thank you,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“For what?” she replied, the words less than enough. Because in her heart, Annabeth knew.

“For not giving up on me.”

Annabeth’s instinct was to laugh and inform him that all she’d done was tell him he could have his room back. But she didn’t. Because they _both_ knew. It was so much more.

They broke apart and silently separated and got ready for bed. Annabeth lay down under the blankets and Percy lay down on top of them. After a few minutes of tense silence, she knew they were both still awake. His breathing was too fast. Something brushed against her hand, and her instinct was to jerk her fingers back. Percy must have touched them accidentally. But then, fingers entwined with hers, and Annabeth held her breath.

“Good night, Annabeth,” he said into the dark.

Annabeth had to think about breathing and what it meant. Inhale air. Exhale air. “Good night, Percy.”

Breathing isn’t easy when you’re free falling.

……………………

The next morning, Annabeth waited until everyone was off at their daily activities. Percy and Reyna offered to take her hunting, and Leo and Piper had offered to take her down to the docks, and Thalia and Thalia's new legionnaire friend Luke had offered to take her to the sparring arena, but Annabeth had feigned aversion to all of them. She was on a mission. Armed with a clear head and a sense of purpose, she snuck down the corridor to a room.  _Octavian's_ room. She had made sure he was well on his way to the Senate House, which bought her a half an hour at the minimum. She glanced around the hallway to make sure no one was watching, before quietly letting herself in and closing the door with a  _click_. She walked in and looked around. It was all much grander than Percy's chambers, no bigger in size, but everything seemed to be dripping in purple and gold. Tables were piled high with gifts and foods, which all looked suspiciously like altars to Octavian himself. Annabeth went straight for his study. A handsome chestnut desk was piled high with all sorts of scrolls and codex's. Annabeth smiled.  _Bingo_. She quickly darted over to the desk and began rifling through them, when a large wooden box caught her eye. It wasn't ostentatious or decorative, it was more of a crate, built to hold something and nothing more. Annabeth's curiosity got the better of her and she put a hand on the lid, poised to pry it open.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. The contents are quite dangerous."

Annabeth froze. It wasn't Octavian's voice. It was someone else's, slightly higher and reedier. Her head snapped up, but she didn't immediately see anyone standing in the room. "Why?" she demanded. If it wasn't Octavian here to catch her, Annabeth wasn't on her highest level of panic. "What's in here?"

The voice didn't laugh, but when it spoke, it sounded like its owner was smiling. " _That_ is the head of Medusa. And if you're not careful, it'll turn you to stone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. And on that note... At the end of this chapter, I name-dropped someone. If you think I picked this name arbitrarily, I didn't. It's someone from the PJO books. Someone who will be coming into play VERY soon ;)


	6. We Need a Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Percy
> 
> In which Percy learns he has a sixth sense when it comes to Annabeth. Too bad that sixth sense gets him stuck in another stupid prophecy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **** If you’re not interested in reading my weekly inner monologue, just know that this chapter picks right up where Chapter 5 left off, only in Percy’s POV. Or if you do love my monologues, keep reading this note :)
> 
> How’s everybody doing? Having a great summer? Cool, cool, me too. So sorry that I'm updating this late, I got like four hours of sleep last week and yeah it's been nuts. Anyways, I’m putting this chapter up today and I’m going to try to put up Chapter 7 in a day or two. And then back to normal. Thanks for sticking with me! Hope you enjoy this chapter. I’m fully capitalizing on the fact that Percabeth is essentially one person. So let me know what you think, and I’ll be back soon!  
> ♡ aschuylersister

As Percy and his friends rode and flew through the forest at full speed, a thought occurred to him. Percy promptly pulled Blackjack up short from a full gallop. Arion deftly jumped to the right to avoid smashing into them, and Hazel ducked low to avoid getting smashed in the face by a tree branch.

“Percy,” she yelped indignantly, causing Reyna to turn around on Scipio.

“What’d he do now?” Reyna asked drily, shifting her weight as Scipio stamped his feet impatiently.

“Pulled Blackjack up with no warning. Arion had to run into a tree to avoid killing us all.”

“Lucky it _was_ Arion,” Jason said from the tree branch he hovered on. “A lesser horse would have kept running and killed you all.”

Hazel pulled up next to Reyna as Frank-the-eagle came and settled on her shoulder to see what was going on, mollified slightly by the praise of her horse. _Slightly_.

“Percy,” she said, her voice rising in gentle alarm, as the Caesar had remained silent throughout the entire commotion. “Is something wrong?”

Percy looked up at his friends as if he was looking at them for the first time, and Reyna and Hazel exchanged troubled glances. “Annabeth,” he said suddenly, and troubled glances intensified among his companions.

“Annabeth _what_ ,” Reyna prodded, leaning forward like she and Scipio might have to take off at a moment’s notice.

Percy’s eyes went wide, and he gripped Blackjack’s reins a little tighter. “She’s in trouble.”

Hazel frowned. “How do you know that?”

Percy’s agitation rippled all the way down to Blackjack, and the horse began to prance anxiously in response. “I don’t _know_ how I know. I just... I just have this unshakeable _feeling_ that something bad is happening to her, _right now_.”

Reyna, Hazel and Jason communicated silently. Percy had been getting a lot of sleepless nights recently, maybe he was losing it. But if something bad _was_ happening to Annabeth, and they kept Percy from helping her? That would be even worse.

“Take Arion,” Hazel said immediately. “He’s the fastest one here. I’ll take Blackjack, and we’ll meet up with you at the palace.”

Percy flashed her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Arion whinnied indignantly, and Percy could hear protests intermingled with a series of curses.

“It’s okay,” Hazel whispered in the golden stallion’s ear. “It’s just Percy. You need to get him to the palace as fast as possible, okay? For me?”

The stallion huffed in what everyone could have sworn was a long sigh. Percy swung up onto his back, and Arion flattened his ears and gave Percy a baleful look over his shoulder.

Percy could hear the horse chuckle in his head. _Hang on, Caesar._

Percy frowned. “Wha- AAAAAAAAAAH!”

Arion took off so fast that Percy got whiplash. In a matter of seconds they were gone, leaving a laughing Hazel with her arms around Blackjack’s neck, as Percy’s horse nuzzled her affectionately. “I should have warned him. Arion does that sometimes.”

Reyna rolled her eyes and nudged Scipio forward with her heels. “Let’s get back to the palace. If Annabeth really is in trouble, Percy might need backup.”

“Percy?” Jason drawled from overhead, his tone belying the opposite meaning of his words. “Need backup? _Never_.”

Quick as a whip, Reyna threw a dagger straight up, mid-gallop. It would have impaled Jason right in the groin if he hadn’t had such quick reflexes. “Focus on flying, Grace.”

The dagger came whistling back down and Reyna caught it with nary a glance upwards.

“Yes ma’am.”

…………

As Percy flew back to the palace astride Arion, his mind moved almost as fast as Hazel’s horse. He didn’t know _how_ he knew Annabeth was in danger. It was like a sixth sense, a tingle in his spine, a voice in his head that was showing him all these horrible images of her being drowned and burned and Percy started to wonder if he was going crazy.

But if the sense _wasn’t_ wrong? He had to help her. He couldn’t forgive himself if he wasn’t there to help her.

Because as much as Percy didn’t want to admit it, he was starting to care about that Greek princess.

He rode Arion right into the palace, nearly mowing down some frightened servants. He vaulted off the golden stallion’s back and sprinted down the palace halls without a glance backwards. Cold panic began to trickle into his stomach as he realized that he may have a sense that Annabeth was in danger, but he didn’t know _where_ Annabeth was. The palace was enormous. He figured the first logical place to check would be their rooms. He burst in the door, going so fast that running into the wood caused him to lose his momentum and nearly pitch headfirst onto the marble floor. Across the room, a startled Piper looked up from where she was unpacking one of Annabeth’s trunks.

She stood up hastily, brushing her hands off on her chiton. She dipped her head in a quick bow. “Caesar Perseus.”

Percy’s quick scan of the room yielded no Annabeth. He refocused on Piper, narrowing his eyes. “Annabeth said you were going down to the docks today.”

Piper smiled. “I just got back.” The words seemed to buzz with life. Her voice washed over him like syrup, and he found himself struggling to remember what he even said to her in the first place. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Where’s Annabeth?”

Piper frowned. “I’m not sure. She didn’t want to come to the docks with me. Said she was going sparring with Thalia and Luke.”

Percy checked the names in his head and came up blank. “Who?”

“Thalia is her bodyguard, from Sparta. Luke is one of your legionnaires. Second cohort, I think. Why?”

Percy shifted on his feet, already anxious to be moving on. Every second he wasted here was one that Annabeth’s danger might be growing worse and worse. “She’s in trouble.”

Percy wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or grateful that Piper didn’t question his sixth sense. She merely bit her lip. “If she was with Thalia and she’s still in trouble, that’s some serious trouble. I’ll come with you.”

Percy darted back down the hallway, this time with Piper at his heels. He reflected on how different Piper was from every other servant he’d ever met. She was at ease with him, treated him like an equal. He knew how close she and Annabeth were. She was probably used to talking with royals like friends. Percy didn’t care. Stuff like that didn’t matter to him. He was more concerned with whether or not Piper would be useful or dead weight if he had to fight whatever foe had separated Annabeth from a Spartan bodyguard and a Roman legionnaire.

Percy and Piper made it to the sparring arena fairly quickly. Percy was impressed with how easily she could keep up with him. Among other legionnaires, two figures at the center of the arena stood out. The guy Percy did recognize from the legion - a blond son of Mercury with a vicious scar cut down from one eye. The female of the two Percy vaguely remembered from the wedding - a tall girl with choppy black hair and eyes like Jason. She threw up an arm to block one of Luke’s strikes, and Percy got a glimpse of something burned into her arm - an eagle. The eagle of Jupiter. He turned to Piper excitedly.

“Your friend, the Spartan. She’s a daughter of Jupiter?”

Piper furrowed her eyebrows. “Zeus, yes. Why?”

 _Well, for one, that makes her my cousin_ , Percy thought distractedly. And also… “That means she’s Jason’s sister.”

Piper smiled politely without showing any teeth. “Jason. The praetor, right?”

“Co-praetor,” Percy said automatically. “Yeah. They should meet.”

Piper nodded, gazing out into the arena. “I’ll talk to Thalia. See if she knows.”

Percy scanned the arena too. He didn’t see Annabeth anywhere. He vaulted over the barrier and strode down across the sand. As people noticed who he was, they all stopped sparring, moving back to clear the way for him. By the time he made it to Thalia and Luke, they had both lowered their swords and were watching him.

“Caesar,” Luke said respectfully, bowing his head slightly. Thalia didn’t say anything, but she nodded to him. She really did have Jason’s eyes. Percy found himself reflecting that she looked almost as scary as Annabeth.

“Good morning to you both,” Percy said cordially. “I’m looking for my wife. She told her handmaiden she was sparring with you.”

Thalia rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. “Well _that’s_ not good. Because she told me she was going hunting with _you_.”

Percy closed his eyes and the floodgates of fear opened in his stomach. Because Annabeth _definitely_ wasn’t with him. And if she wasn’t where she told anyone she would be… Where was she? Why? And what had gone wrong?

“Dammit,” Percy muttered, and he turned on his heel and darted back towards Piper at the edge of the arena. Thalia and Luke closed in behind him.

“I’m coming with you,” Thalia said with some finality. “You might need back up.”

“Ditto,” Luke said. As they approached Piper, Luke looked visibly taken aback. Somewhere in the back of Percy’s mind, in the part that wasn’t consumed with fear for Annabeth, he reflected that Luke probably thought Piper was pretty. Piper _was_ pretty. Just not Percy’s type. Luke smiled at Piper, and something uncomfortable twisted in Percy’s gut. Luke’s smile was a little unhinged, but Piper didn’t look visibly disturbed as she gave Luke a charming smile in return. “I’m Luke,” he told her.

Piper nodded to him. “Piper.” She turned her attention to Thalia. “Hey, Thalia.”

Thalia twisted her mouth up at Piper in a wry grin. “What’s our girl got herself into now, huh?”

Piper shrugged. “We’ve already been here a week. Honestly, for Annabeth, I think that’s a personal best.”

They both laughed, and Percy found himself wishing that he knew Annabeth well enough to add something to the conversation.

Their group, now a group of four, jogged back into the palace. “Do you have a plan?” Thalia asked Percy.

Percy ran a hand through his hair. “Now that I think about it… Do you guys have any insight? You obviously know her better than I do. Anywhere she would have gone?”

Piper screwed up her face in concentration. “I don’t know… She never said anything to me that made me think something was wrong. She has been acting weird lately, but I thought that in itself was normal, given… You know, given the circumstances.” She flushed red and ducked her head apologetically, peering up at Percy through her eyelashes. “No offense.”

Percy sighed, feeling the all-too-familiar feeling of guilt coming back to gnaw at his stomach. “None taken.” Percy stopped in his tracks. “You don’t think… You don’t think she would have tried to go back to Greece… Do you?”

Thalia put a gloved hand on his shoulder. “I don’t. That’s not like Annabeth. She would only go back to Greece if she was _desperate_. And it takes more than a week to make Annabeth desperate.”

Percy held back a sigh of relief, because he didn’t think he could have forgiven himself if Rome sent Annabeth packing after only a _week_.

Suddenly, Piper snapped her fingers. “Octavian,” she exclaimed, which didn’t do much to help the mosh pit in Percy’s gut. “Annabeth spent a solid three hours ranting about him the other day. A lot of it went over my head, but she was definitely planning _something_.” Piper looked at the others nervously. “I didn’t think she’d be stupid enough to actually try anything. Now I see that this was an oversight on my part.”

“Ya _think_!?” Thalia exclaimed. “Okay, well, knowing Annabeth, she wouldn’t confront him directly. She’d look for evidence. Blackmail, something sneaky to take him down with.” She looked at Percy. “Where would you go if you wanted dirt on Octavian?”

Percy was developing another headache. He _prayed_ that Annabeth wasn’t stupid enough to go after Octavian. He prayed that Thalia and Piper were wrong. But… He had another sixth-sense gut feeling. A sixth-sense gut feeling that they were right.

“His study,” Percy said. “In his rooms. Now would be a perfect time, actually… Octavian is usually at the Senate House right about now.”

The four looked at each other uneasily. And without another word, they all began to sprint, Percy leading the way, towards Octavian’s suite.

They slowed down as they approached, and Percy cautiously stuck his head in first. He didn’t hear any movement, so he crept in all the way, ushering in Piper, Thalia and Luke behind him. Luke closed the door with a slow click.

“Annabeth?” Percy hissed. “Annabeth?”

A long pause. And then, from another room… “Percy?”

His heart in his throat, Percy moved towards the sound. It had come from Octavian’s study. He crept through the doors, the other three behind him, and saw Annabeth standing next to Octavian’s desk. A _faun_ , of all things, was standing next to her, one with curly brown hair and a wispy goatee. Hairy goat legs poked out from under his toga. He and Annabeth had been having a conversation, but they stopped when Percy and his companions entered. Percy marched over and grabbed Annabeth’s arm, jerking her towards him. “What were you _thinking_?” he demanded.

Annabeth’s eyes darted down to his hand on her arm, before coming back up to defiantly meet his. “I was _thinking_ that Octavian needs to be taken down a few pegs. And since you’re not doing anything about it, I had to take matters into my own hands.”

Percy whipped his head suspiciously towards the faun, the fear of Annabeth being in trouble still not gone. “Who is this?”

“Grover,” the satyr replied, hastily dipping his head in a bow. “Grover Underwood, my lord. Octavian’s, er, secretary.”

“Secretary,” Percy repeated dubiously. “You’re a faun.” Fauns in Rome were nothing more than petty thieves. Why Octavian would make one a _secretary_ was suspicious to say the least.

“I’m not a faun,” Grover said indignantly. “I’m a _satyr_. There’s a difference.”

“He’s from Greece,” Annabeth interjected. “We have satyrs there. And they have a very different role from that which Grover tells me fauns play in Rome.”

Still not convinced, Percy narrowed his eyes. “So tell me, satyr. Why are you in Rome?”

“Oh,” Grover said, shuffling his hoof, his ears red. “That. Well, I was kind of kicked out of Greece by my council. Some stuff about the god Pan. I’m not a criminal, we just had different… viewpoints.”

“You should believe him,” Thalia said, rolling her eyes. “The Council of Cloven Elders can be…”

“Irrational,” Grover suggested glumly. “Stubborn. Unreasonable. As-”

“Yes,” Piper said hastily. “All those things.”

“And he saved my life,” Annabeth implored, gently removing her arm from Percy’s grip. “Apparently, Octavian has Medusa’s head in a box in here. I was about to open it, when Grover here stopped me.”

Grover said something, but Percy didn’t hear it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his limbs suddenly felt like jelly. His ears rang, and bile rose in his throat.

_The head of Medusa._

“Where is it?” Percy said, his voice stuttering as he came out of his daze.

Annabeth gave him a weird look. “Where’s what?”

“The Medusa head,” Percy said, his head spinning as he still only half-focused on his surroundings. “Where is it?”

Annabeth pointed to a wooden crate in the corner. “There. Are you okay? You look a little unhinged.”

Hands shaking, Percy sprinted over to the crate. “It can’t be,” he muttered, pulling a bronze shield down from a nearby display. “It can’t…” He wedged the edge of the shield under the crate and pushed down. “Everyone look away!”

“Percy, you’re crazy!” Annabeth screamed, but it was too late. The lid popped off the box, and everyone dropped down with their hands over their eyes. Except Percy. He tentatively held the bronze shield up, peering into it like a mirror, moving closer to the crate. Inside, the horrible head of Medusa grimaced at him. The snakes in her hair reared their heads and hissed and snapped at each other. Percy slammed the lid back down on the crate. That was all the proof he needed. “What the hell, Percy,” Annabeth snapped, storming over to his side not a second later. “You could have killed us all!”

“Sorry,” Percy muttered, but inside he was reeling. If Octavian had the Medusa head…

“Anyways,” Annabeth said, ignoring him. “Sorry I disappeared, but I _had_ to find out…” She suddenly cut off, glaring suspiciously at Luke, the only person in the room she didn’t know.

Thalia understood and immediately jumped in. “It’s okay, he’s with me. You can trust him.”

“I’m Luke,” Luke told Annabeth. “Luke Castellan, second cohort. It’s an honor to meet you Augusta. And I understand if you’d like me to leave.” He gave her a very charming grin.

Annabeth blushed, and despite Percy’s Medusa dilemma, he found himself looking between Luke and Annabeth in confusion. She _blushed_ . Annabeth didn’t _blush_. He may have known her a week, but he thought he knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t the type to blush like a schoolgirl. He found himself hoping Annabeth would tell Luke to leave, but she only gave him a soft smile.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Anyways. I overheard Octavian talking the other day. He’s planning something. Something bad. And Grover was _about_ to tell me what it was, when you four burst in.” She swiveled on Grover with a glare, and the satyr visibly shrunk.

“I told you!” he exclaimed hastily. “I don’t know anything!”

“Liar,” Annabeth snarled, looking like she was about to pounce on Grover and eat him alive. Percy had the vague thought that he should do something, but what he really wanted to do was hurl the Medusa head off a cliff and cry.

Thankfully or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, Thalia interceded. She took a few steps towards Grover, peering into his face with a scary smile that showed all her teeth. “He is lying."

“I’m not-” Grover started, but Thalia held a hand up.

“No protests. Pipes, you’re up.”

Piper took a deep breath. “Grover Underwood,” she said, her voice taking on that electric honey quality. “You will tell us everything you know about…” she looked hesitantly at Annabeth, who jumped in.

“Octavian’s deal,” Annabeth said hastily, and Piper continued.

“Octavian’s deal. You will tell us everything you know about Octavian’s deal.” She rocked back on her heels and folded her arms over her ribcage, watching Grover expectantly.

The satyr’s face took on a dreamy quality, and he spoke like the words were being forced out of his mouth unwillingly. “I… I don’t know a lot. Octavian has been having meetings with someone. Someone I don’t know. I’ve never seen him. But Octavian is making a deal with giants. Something about war. Stopping a war or starting a war, I don’t know.”

Luke looked at Piper in amazement. “How did you _do_ that?”

Piper pushed up a stack of bracelets on her arm to reveal a dove burned into it. “Daughter of Aphrodite. Charmspeak.” Her voice took on that magic touch. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Luke shook stars out of his eyes. “I… won’t.”

Meanwhile, Grover’s words forced Percy to temporarily forget about Medusa heads. Anything involving giants was _bad_ . Very bad. They were almost as powerful as the Olympians, and were twice as dangerous. If they were running around making deals with _Octavian_ … Percy and Annabeth locked eyes. This was something they couldn’t ignore.

“You know what this means,” a voice said from the doorway. Everybody jumped a foot into the air, poised to bolt, but the voice only belonged to Reyna. Percy sighed in relief. She strode into the room, eyes flashing, arms folded over her armor. “We need a quest.”

Percy didn’t ask how Reyna found them, or why Jason or any of their other friends weren’t with her, or how much she had heard. He just looked at her pleadingly. “Reyna… If Octavian finds out…”

Reyna glared at him with hard eyes. “Gotta go over your head on this one, Percy. I don’t care what you’ve got going on with Octavian. If this is a _war_ we’re talking about, more is at stake than the results of your feud. You know we have to do this.”

Percy sighed. Because in his heart of hearts, he knew Reyna was right. If Octavian’s secret over him got out, the consequences would be disastrous. But the Games was one thing. War with giants… That was another thing entirely.

“Fine,” Percy sighed. “A quest. But all precautions possible have to be taken to keep Octavian from finding out.”

Reyna nodded. “Agreed.”

“Ahem,” Annabeth said, raising her hand slightly, which Percy thought was kind of cute. “For the Greeks in the room… What’s a quest? And how do we get one?”

“It’s something we use in the legion,” Reyna explained. “For when a very particular kind of mission needs to be undertaken, sometimes one ordered by the gods themselves. We have an Oracle that gives us instructions, in the form of a prophecy. There’s a quest leader, and the quest leader can pick two companions. Or sometimes the Oracle picks for them.”

Annabeth nodded thoughtfully. “Why three?”

Reyna shrugged. “Three is a sacred number. Bad things happen when more or less than three people go.

Thalia raised her eyebrows. “Then you’d better only send three.”

Reyna nodded. “Okay. Hopefully the prophecy won’t call for anyone other than the people in this room. Because if Octavian is gonna be kept in the dark on this, we need as few people to know as possible.” She looked at the people in the room with one of her best scary-Reyna glares. “Anything that happens from here out stays between us seven. Understood?”

Everyone nodded solemnly, and Reyna locked eyes with Percy. “Okay. Let’s go to the Oracle.”

Percy’s group, now seven, made their way out of the palace towards the legion barracks, where the Oracle was kept. Percy tried not to be worried. Reyna he trusted unconditionally, and he knew that Annabeth wouldn’t tell Octavian, given the fact that she hated him so much. Thalia and Piper seemed to care deeply for Annabeth, he gave them that much, so he tried not to distrust them. And Grover kept muttering under his breath about how dead he would be if they were caught, so that took care of that. The only person who _really_ worried Percy was Luke. He was watching the proceedings with interest, with an almost amused look on his face, and he wasn’t saying much. But they needed a quest first. He’d deal with Luke later.

They snuck up into the room where the Oracle was kept without being seen by many. The people who did see them didn’t pay them much mind. It wasn’t like their particular combination of people looked _too_ suspicious.

The Oracle, a mummified woman with leathery skin and tufts of black hair, still freaked Percy out, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been up here. He was prepared. He kept an eye on Annabeth, but she didn’t seem to have any visible reaction to the Oracle, she simply stared at it with a tense expression, like she expected it to lunge out and grab her throat at any second.

Reyna knelt at its feet, as the one pushing for this quest in the first place. “O Oracle,” she declared, as everyone else in the room held their breaths. “We need a quest. What is our destiny?”

A moment of tense silence, and then…

Green mist swirled out of the Oracle, tendrils reaching out and wrapping them up. A voice resounded in their heads, ancient and raspy. The spirit of Delphi.

_The son of the sea, the one the council has wronged_

_And the daughter of Greece who does not belong_

_These three shall go east to free the monster in the maze_

_And the secret he shares is the debt he repays_

The Oracle went silent. The green mist shut off abruptly. The seven people in the room looked at each other in dead silence.

“Well,” Grover said nervously, breaking the silence. “The one the council has wronged is me. Anyone up for helping me fake my own death? Not sure Octavian would be too stoked to learn I’m taking a week off to go on a quest with…” He looked expectantly around the circle. For the son of the sea and the daughter of Greece who does not belong.

“Me,” Annabeth said, her voice a dead rasp, her eyes bright. “I’m the daughter of Greece who does not belong. That was easy.”

Percy locked eyes with Reyna. The only two “sons” left in the room were him and Luke. But no one could know what he and Reyna knew. That _other_ secret. Percy absentmindedly rubbed at the leather gauntlet covering up the trident burned into his forearm. He needed a plausible reason as to why he is, in fact, the son of the sea. He cast a baleful glare at the mummy in the corner. _Thanks a lot, stupid Oracle_.

Reyna, thankfully, saved him. “Percy’s mother has always been rumored to have water nymph blood in her,” she told everyone in a smooth, convincing tone. “Guess the Oracle confirmed it.”

Despite the fact that Reyna was lying through her teeth, everyone nodded easily. Percy shot her a thank you glance.

Annabeth turned to Percy, looking determined and much too excited for what was to come. Percy, on the other hand, would have been finding any way out of this if it wasn’t for the fact that he already knew far too well that there was no getting around a prophecy.

“Well,” she said, squinting at Percy with a gleam in her eye. “I guess I know where we’re going on our honeymoon.”


	7. Jackson and Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Annabeth
> 
> In which Annabeth, Percy and Grover set sail on the craziest quest ever. Death is certain and chaos is inevitable, so why is Percy (Jackson) suddenly her friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, when I wrote the last chapter, I was kind of worried about where to go from there. But then I realized... Percy and Annabeth are RIGHT where I want them. I sat down and bullet pointed my way through the next few chapters. And oh my gosh you guys, IT’S BETTER THAN I COULD HAVE POSSIBLY IMAGINED. I AM SO SO SO EXCITED. So buckle up. And allow me to be your tour guide through certified PJO mayhem, madness, and adventure. (With the original golden trio, because let’s be real, Heroes of Olympus would have been TEN TIMES BETTER IF GROVER HAD BEEN ON THE ARGO II. I love a good Jercy bromance as much as anyone, but Grover is Percy’s best friend first and foremost.) Okay, rant over. I’m super excited. You should be too. So read this chapter and get super hyped for what’s to come. Let me know what you think! I love ideas and feedback.  
> ♡ aschuylersister

Things moved fast after the prophecy. In a garbled language no one else really understood, which involved lots of pacing, randomly stopping at the exact same moment, pointing at each other with jubilant expressions before going back to pacing, and never speaking in complete sentences, Annabeth and Reyna developed a plan so crazy it actually worked.

Grover ran away, leaving behind a note that informed Octavian he could no longer in good conscience work for him. Naturally, Octavian was furious, but it wasn’t suspicious. Reyna hid Grover in the legion barracks, while Percy and Annabeth worked on their end. They requested an audience with Octavian, and thanks to Annabeth’s acting skills, a dash of Piper’s charmspeak (and absolutely no thanks to Percy’s inability to keep a straight face), they secured a very unsuspicious passage aboard the _Argo II_ for a honeymoon to Sicily.

On the day they were slotted to leave, Piper dressed Thalia in Annabeth’s finest silks and put a heavy linen veil over her head. Percy gave Luke his best golden armor, complete with a helmet and face guard. Arm in arm, Thalia and Luke boarded the _Argo II_ with all the pomp and circumstance Rome had to offer. Octavian himself waved from the bottom of the gangplank while in an unsanctioned twist, Leo (who everyone agreed was the one extra person who could be let in on the plan, because his cooperation was kind of necessary) set a bevy of white doves free over the audience’s heads.

If Octavian ever sent someone (or several someones, because Octavian was nothing if not thorough) to Sicily to spy, the spies would all come back with the same answer. The Roman party had gone into the vacation palace on the island and they hadn’t left. The _Argo II_ was still moored at the docks. If the spies had made it all the way to the inner sanctum of the palace, what they really would have found was Thalia and Luke arguing over the best way to sharpen a broadsword while Leo ate both of their dinners, but that was beside the point.

As Thalia and Luke boarded the _Argo II_ , three different figures walked unseen through the crowds on the docks. Shrouded in the simple linen garb of Roman peasants, Annabeth, Percy and Grover used a generous amount of legion denarii to secure passage aboard a Greek merchant ship, the _Iphigenia_ , that was returning to Crete after doing business in the Roman capital. The burly ship captain didn’t ask too many questions, and didn’t look too closely at their faces. He was too busy ogling the sack of gold.

“You kids want to go to Crete, eh?” he snarled, counting the gold a second time.

The three looked at each other worriedly before nodding. “We're from there,” Annabeth said in a perfect Greek accent. “The ship we came here on left without us. Now we seek passage back home.”

The captain glared at them with hard eyes. “Names?”

“Grover Underwood,” Grover said quickly, and Annabeth and Percy glanced at each other with barely concealed alarm. Annabeth cursed herself for her oversight. She had completely forgotten. Regular people had last names. Only royalty had first names alone.

“Percy Jackson,” Percy said smoothly, so smoothly that Annabeth would never be able to tell he was lying. She internally scowled at him for being so quick. It even sounded good. _Percy Jackson_ . She needed a word. An arbitrary word that could sound like a last name. Her eyes swiveled to the sky. Two birds were flying nearby. They were chasing each other. The smaller one dove down towards the sea, and the larger one swooped in after it. _Chase._

“Annabeth Chase,” she told the captain, smiling apologetically for taking so long to remember her own name.

He rolled his eyes and motioned over his shoulder. “Come aboard. Berths are below deck. You’ll be needing three?”

In the awkward silence that followed, Percy and Annabeth locked eyes and had a silent conversation. “Yeah,” Annabeth said slowly, and Percy nodded in agreement. “We will.”

Annabeth stood at the bow of the _Iphigenia_ , her hair caught up in the wind and her eyes lost in the horizon. For the first time since leaving Greece, she felt like she could _breathe_ . She found a sense of peace in leaving Rome behind her. She had secretly been so relieved when her role in this quest had been prophesied. She had been _hoping_ she could go. First off, if anyone was going to stop Octavian, she trusted herself the most to get it done. Second, palaces were constricting. Freeing monsters from mazes sounded dangerous and kind of exciting. Of course, she knew exactly where they were going. Even Percy had easily figured it out. There was only one maze and one monster the Oracle could have possibly meant. _The_ maze. _The_ monster.

The Labyrinth at Crete. Home to the one and only Minotaur.

Truthfully, Annabeth had been a little disappointed at the team the Oracle assembled. Grover was always nervous and it made Annabeth nervous, and she didn’t trust Percy an inch when it came to Octavian. Her own personal dream team would have been some combination of Thalia, Piper and Reyna.

Although… Maybe sometimes it wasn’t all bad.

Their second day at sea, Annabeth was curled up on a coil of rope on the top deck, going through what little scrolls she’d been able to swipe on the Labyrinth and its creator - Daedalus. Something clattered to the deck at her feet, and she jerked her head up, annoyed, to see who was throwing things at her when she was trying to read. It was Percy, wearing simple leather and bronze armor over his toga, the sun behind him forming an annoying sort of halo over his head. He had his gladius in one hand, and the other was extended towards Annabeth. She dropped her eyes to the item at her feet. A second gladius. Percy smiled at her. “Come on. I’ve been meaning to teach you swordfighting. If we’re headed into the Labyrinth… Now’s as good a time as any.”

Annabeth squinted up into his face. “If I remember correctly, I was the one who took you down. Are you sure you can teach me anything?”

Percy laughed. “Take my hand, Chase. I’ll show you just how much I can teach you.”

Annabeth took his hand, fingers catching on those ever-present leather gauntlets wrapped around his wrists. “I’m telling you, I’ll kick your ass. _Jackson_. How did you come up with that so fast, anyways?”

Percy shrugged, stooping to pick up her sword. “It was my mom’s maiden name. Easy.”

Annabeth bit her lip and grinned. “Percy Jackson. I like it.”

Percy held the sword out to her, hilt first, and Annabeth took it. He took a few steps back and readied himself in a defensive stance, eyes gleaming. “Okay, Chase. Attack me.”

Annabeth swung the sword experimentally, testing its weight. “Just remember… you asked for it.”

With not much to do aboard the cramped ship, sparring became Percy and Annabeth’s favorite pastime. Percy was an adequate swordfighting teacher, although Annabeth gravitated more towards knife fighting. Percy’s technique was more polished, and when he won their bouts it was usually because of some fancy move that Annabeth neither knew or was expecting. But Annabeth was faster and sneakier and she learned quickly, and sometimes they could fight in a deadlock for ages.

Annabeth loved that Percy seemed to come alive at sea. No one on board knew who they were, and Percy was a whole different person when no one was calling him Caesar. He laughed more and made stupid jokes and sometimes he would lean so far over the edge of the bow that it made Annabeth nervous, extending his hand so that the waves seemed to leap up and touch him. She enjoyed their dynamic when no one was watching them, expecting them to act like husband and wife. She could forget about all the tension and the pain and the mistakes. They were just kids. Just friends. She could push him in the ribs when he was teasing her and he could sneak up behind her and put his hands over her eyes and say “Guess who?”, when it was painfully obviously him, every single time.

Truthfully, aboard the _Iphigenia_ , she usually forgot they were actually married. They slept in different rooms, and to Annabeth it felt like a fresh start. Percy was her friend. She liked having him as a friend. It was so easy and uncomplicated. And sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, she would catch him looking at her in the strangest way. Almost… wistfully.

Annabeth always looked forward to the evenings in the cramped galley, when she, Percy and Grover would huddle around a tiny candlelit table and swap stories and jokes and make plans for when they actually got to Crete, each one crazier than the last, and it was easy to pretend that life on the _Iphigenia_ wasn’t a bubble. Because it was. Once they got to Crete, every move they made could be their last. And if they made it back to Rome… Annabeth wasn’t entirely sure that the Percy she was learning to appreciate would still exist. It kept her awake at night. The thought that all too soon, Percy Jackson might disappear. And Caesar Perseus would take his place.

Grover and Percy became fast friends. Grover’s Type-A personality helped counterbalance and was counterbalanced by Percy’s slacker tendencies. The more she got to know Grover, the less she started to worry about him. He could strike a serious blow with a wooden cudgel, and he had a pair of pipes, characteristic of satyrs. The songs he played sounded _awful_ , but once in awhile, he could get something magical and semi-useful to happen.

Of course, there was the Great Strawberry Incident, that almost got them thrown off the ship.

But Percy had made her swear never to mention _that_ one.

Ten blissful days after Rome faded from sight, the captain made an appearance at their table. Grover cut off in the middle of a hilarious story about a dryad he knew back in Greece. Percy had been laughing so hard he spit water all over the table, and Annabeth hastily angled herself in front of him, passing him a napkin and smiling at the captain. The captain surveyed them for a minute before shaking his head in exasperation.

“Just letting you know that we arrive in Crete tomorrow. So have your things packed and ready to go.”

The mood at the table instantly darkened. Annabeth nodded. “Of course. Thank you for letting us know." The captain nodded and walked away, and Annabeth turned back to her friends. “Okay. I visited the Cretan palace once, a few years ago with my father. I think I can get us there.”

Percy nodded. “Great. So we get to the palace, from there it’s a quick hop over to the Labyrinth, head inside, free the Minotaur, and… I guess we’ll know what to do from there.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “It won’t be that _easy_. You’re assuming walking through the Labyrinth is a piece of cake. Every inch of that place is a trap. We’re going to have to fight for our lives just to make it to the Minotaur in the first place.”

Grover shuddered and took a bite out of his wooden plate. “I don’t see how we’re supposed to do it. If fourteen of the best Athenians can’t, we’re hardly going to make it any further.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

Annabeth stabbed her food with her fork with more force than necessary. “It means I have a bone to pick with the Cretan king,” she said darkly. Her family’s relationship with King Minos was rocky at best. It may have had something to do with the fact that every year, her father had to pick fourteen Athenian teenagers to send into the Labyrinth as a sacrifice to the Minotaur.

“Some Athenian king killed some Cretan king a long time ago,” Grover explained quickly. “The gods sent a plague to Athens as penance. The alternative to the plague was to pick seven of the best Athenian young men and seven of the best Athenian young women to send into the Labyrinth to feed the Minotaur.”

Percy scowled. “Well that’s hardly fair. Okay, we definitely have to get rid of this stupid Minotaur.” He quickly glanced over at Annabeth. “I’m sorry. That’s your home country. That must suck.”

Annabeth shrugged. “Well, I’ve never been picked. Guess I’m just lucky.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “You mean… You’re not exempt? Because you’re royalty?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Hardly. Everyone over in Crete is just _waiting_ for me or one of my siblings to get picked in the lottery. They’d love to see a royal get eaten by the Minotaur.” She gave Percy a grim smile. “Actually. I became exempt the day I married you. So thanks for that, at least.”

Percy shuddered. “So, if the best and brightest of Wise Girl’s country over here can’t defeat this Minotaur, I take it back. We’re screwed.”

Annabeth fought back a blush at the nickname. He’d never called her Wise Girl before. But she forced her face to remain the same and focused on tracing the wood grain in the table. “Well, they aren’t allowed weapons. We at least will have that advantage.” She paused. “I’m actually kind of grateful for this quest. Getting rid of the Minotaur is something I’ve dreamed about for _years_.”

Grover and Percy nodded in sympathy. Suddenly, shouting could be heard above on the deck, and bells sounded. The three looked at each other. Those bells meant another ship was approaching. They all looked at each other for another moment, before coming to the silent consensus that they should go up and check it out. Without another word, they bolted for the stairs, coming up onto the deck a moment later. It was pitch black outside, and they could only see what was going on in flickering glimpses as sailors moved about with their lanterns flying behind them.

Another ship approached, melting out of the darkness. Someone called from it, their voice almost getting lost in the wind. “Ahoy! Is this vessel bound for Crete?”

The captain, who by now had made it onto the deck as well, replied. “It is! What business do you have with us?”

The ship was getting closer now, and the other voice was clearer. “We are part of the Athenian royal envoy. We have precious cargo bound for Crete, and our ship is taking on water. Request permission to board immediately!”

The captain got into a quick heated discussion with his first mate, and Annabeth looked at Percy and Grover in a panic. If this was the Athenian royal envoy, there was a good chance that someone might recognize her. She quickly readjusted her cloak to hide more of her face, and Percy and Grover shifted so they were partially in front of her.

“Permission granted!” the captain yelled. Sailors on both sides immediately began working frantically. The other ship came up alongside the _Iphigenia_ , and boards were laid across for people to walk on. People began coming over from the other ship, all of which did look very Athenian. Annabeth thought she might have recognized a few, but no one stood out for sure. Suddenly, there was a commotion. Coming across one of the boards was a large group of people, all tied together. More boards were pushed together to make it easier for them to cross without being untied. As they came into the candlelight, Annabeth gasped. Seven boys. Seven girls. All about Annabeth’s age.

She, Percy and Grover gave each other grave looks.

“Well,” Percy sighed. “This just got unnecessarily complicated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else read the Hunger Games and spend the entire book going "this is just a knock off of the story of the Labyrinth"? No? Just me?  
> Also, I'm no good at ship lingo. So if the whole last scene where the two captains are yelling at each other is not stuff that actual ship captains would say or do, so sorry. It works for my story purposes.  
> And finally... Bonus points to anyone who gets the Iphigenia reference ;)


	8. Like You Could Do Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Percy
> 
> “I said that before I knew it was a stupid invulnerable water snake!” he yelled.  
> ........  
> Percy is a bit unnerved by the satisfaction Annabeth seems to find in trash talking a three-hundred-foot tall water serpent that gets confused by sails, but hey, it's like his mom told him the night before the wedding. You learn something new about your spouse every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Percy said in the last chapter, "this just got unnecessarily complicated". AND THAT'S WHERE I'M HEADED TODAY, FOLKS.  
> There is a sea dragon monster in this chapter. Because I'm eight chapters in and I haven't gotten to write any monsters! How sad is that? So I tried to describe it best I could, but if you're still looking for a tangible visual, I was inspired by the dragon monster from that 1999 animated movie, The King and I. It's not a great movie (scratch that, it's a terrible movie), but that was one scary animated dragon. Google it if you want. But don't hold me responsible for any nightmares. *shudders*  
> Okay, that's my rant for today. I've got some stuff coming up, and I'm not sure yet how much of my time it'll take up. Hopefully I'll have a new chapter up next weekend though. As always, feedback appreciated! Thanks for reading!  
> ♡ aschuylersister

Annabeth thought they should free three of the prisoners and replace themselves with the three they freed: a surefire way into the Labyrinth.

Then Percy raised the point that it wasn’t fair to randomly hand out freedom to only three and condemn the other eleven to certain death.

Then Annabeth made a passive aggressive remark about how that certainly wasn’t his attitude back in Rome and why was he Mr. High-and-Mighty now?

Then Percy had gotten mad and, between trying to fight Annabeth on the matter of his attitudes in Rome, brought up the point that none of the fourteen had to die at all because they were going to free the Minotaur.

And then Grover brought up the point that nobody was freeing any Minotaur if they went into the Labyrinth as captives, because then they wouldn’t be allowed weapons.

And then the trio went back down to the galley and sat in dejected silence. Well, Percy and Grover sat in silence. Annabeth was muttering to herself, fragments of plans that she rejected herself by scowling and shaking her head before going back to the invisible drawing board.

Percy watched her think. She was pretty when she was thinking, her hair pulled back except for the loose curls that escaped and formed a wispy halo over her head, eyes stormy and hooded by her furrowed brows. He could have sat there watching her for a while, but her head snapped up and she gave him a look like she’d been somewhere else and she was just coming back to Earth. “How many of those prisoners do you think are demigods?”

Percy was instantly on edge. “How am I supposed to know?

Annabeth ignored him. “I’m a demigod. You’re…” she gave Percy a strange look. “So... your mom is supposedly part water nymph? Do you actually have any water powers?”

Percy’s tongue felt like lead. _If only she knew_. “I… don’t… knooooooow?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, remind me to push you overboard sometime and we’ll find out what happens. Grover, we can probably smuggle your pipes in, and you can get some magic going with that. If we can rally whatever demigods are here, _maybe_ our combined powers can defeat the Minotaur without weapons.”

Percy raised his eyebrows at her skeptically. “I would think,” he said cautiously, “a group would have tried that already.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes again. “No group has ever had _me_.”

Percy and Grover exchanged a glance. But after ten days aboard the _Iphigenia_ , they knew better than to question Annabeth when she was in one of her plotting moods.

There was a commotion on the stairs, and the Athenian envoy began to descend into the galley. Seeing how there was only one stairwell going to and from the room, Percy, Annabeth and Grover were trapped. Annabeth promptly leaned over, lips pursed, and blew out the candle in one swift breath. They sat in tense silence, watching as the men gathered around a table, talking loudly.

“Do you know any of them?” Percy asked Annabeth in a low voice.

Annabeth stared at them pensively. “I recognize a few,” she said slowly. “I don’t know any by name… Wait.” She narrowed her eyes as if zeroing in on one particular. “Him,” she said suddenly, her voice taking on a rougher edge. “The one with the blue sash. His name is Darius. He’s one of my father’s advisors.”

Percy shot Annabeth a worried look. She was kind of hard to see - her face was shrouded in shadows at their dark table, but her eyes glinted and reflected the light. “Would he be able to recognize you?”

Annabeth nodded. “Yes.”

“Weeeeell,” Grover bleated. “We’re toast.”

“No one’s toast,” Annabeth said crossly. “We arrive in Crete _tomorrow_. I think we can stay hidden that long.” Suddenly, Annabeth leaned forward further, a beam of light falling across her figure. Her entire body was tensed, and she put her palm down on the table. “Shh,” she said.

Percy frowned at Grover. “No one’s talking.”

She shot him a glare, but distractedly, her attention focused on the Athenian envoy. “Listen,” she said, and Percy turned towards the group.

“What happened to your ship, anyways?” one of the _Iphigenia_ sailors asked.

The Athenians exchanged glances. “Something attacked us,” one said in a hushed voice. “This creature… It bit a hole right out of the bottom of our ship.”

The _Iphigenia_ sailors grew agitated. “How do you know it didn’t follow you here?” one demanded.

One of the Athenians stood up, a hand on the hilt of his sword. “What would you have suggested?” he snapped. “That we give ourselves up for dead?”

“This is bad,” Grover muttered. “They’re going to kill each other.”

 _Creeeeeeak_.

An unearthly sound came from either the sea or the ship, and the room fell silent. Annabeth locked eyes with Percy.

 _BOOM._ The ship lurched, as something smashed into the side. Annabeth, whose back was to the side of the ship, was thrown up out of her seat. If Percy had had mortal reflexes, she would have flown straight into the table across from them. Instead, he threw his arm out and it caught her in the stomach, and she collapsed over it, folding like a deck of cards. Grover reached out to keep her upright. Across the room, people were losing their balance left and right. Things went flying off tables and rolling across the floor as the ship rocked dangerously. Shouting could be heard above deck, and people went scrambling for the stairs. Percy, Annabeth and Grover weren’t far behind. They spilled out onto the deck, Percy with his gladius drawn and Annabeth with her knife in hand. Almost everyone on the ship was on deck, except for the fourteen Athenian prisoners. They were looking around tensely, searching the sea for the threat, but the water was calm.

“The beast,” one of the _Iphigenia_ sailors cried. “You brought it here!”

An Athenian opened his mouth to reply, but he never got the chance. The sea groaned. And the monster made its appearance.

Its distinguishing characteristic was that it was black, blacker than the water, blacker than the night sky. It rose out of the sea like a giant serpent, its body thicker than a tree trunk and its head rose up over the top of the highest sail, with who knew how much of it still underwater. Its head was like that of a dragon, with frills and eyes like lamps, lamps filled with Greek fire. Percy knew Greek fire. It was Reyna’s favorite. The creature opened its mouth and hissed. Green poison dripped from its fangs. Its breath was a cloud of poison gas. It dripped down onto the deck, and everywhere it landed, it sizzled a hole right through the wood.

Annabeth cursed in Greek and Latin, which was bad because Percy usually only ever heard her curse in Greek.

Grover’s teeth started to chatter, as sailors and Athenians alike either grabbed a weapon or scrambled below deck. “Well,” Grover said. “I think that’s my cue to head below.”

“Hold on,” Annabeth said. “We need… We need a plan, we need…”

“Annabeth,” Percy said firmly, because as smart as Annabeth was, this was his area of expertise. Granted, the last time he fought something this big he was with Reyna, Jason, Frank and Hazel, but he knew all too well that there was no thinking their way out of this particular scenario. “No plans. We’re either going to be able to fight this thing back or not.” Part of Percy rested oddly secure in the knowledge that even if the ship went down, he could keep him, Annabeth and Grover alive underwater for a while. Not that he _wanted_ it to come to that, but he was decidedly less freaked out than his companions. “Go below with Grover,” he told her. “I’m going to stay and fight.”

Annabeth snorted. “As if you’re staying and fighting without me.”

Percy’s stomach turned. He was over the whole girls-go-hide-while-strong-men-do-all-the-fighting, he was best friends with Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano for crying out loud, but Annabeth was his _wife_ . And she’d been training for less than a _fortnight_. He couldn’t have it on his conscience if something happened to her. “Annabeth, please,” he tried. “I’m not doubting your skills, really, but there’s hardly anything you can do! I can’t focus on fighting if I’m constantly worrying about you!”

Annabeth flashed him an annoyed glare before turning her attention back to the serpent. “Then don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” Percy opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the serpent reared its head and lunged down at the deck. Its aim was for somewhere a few yards away from where Percy and his friends were standing, but its body came down directly at them. Percy leapt to the side to avoid getting smashed, and as the serpent moved, he brought his gladius down on its side. The blade merely clanged off of hard scales, scraping roughly and sending up sparks. The monster probably didn’t even feel it, and Percy growled in frustration. The body lifted up as the monster reared back for another assault, and Percy gazed across the trench of splintered wood it had formed at Annabeth, who had dodged the other way. She raised her eyebrows at him, unimpressed. “Yeah,” she yelled over the sounds of the battle. “I’m the one who can hardly do anything!”

Percy raised his gladius to try for another strike as the serpent moved back down. “I said that _before_ I knew it was a stupid invulnerable water snake!” he yelled. “Where’s Grover?”

Annabeth whipped her head around frantically. “I don’t know!” she yelled back.

Percy felt cold fear seize up in his chest. Grover could be intense, but he’d come to care about him over the past ten days. He considered the satyr a friend, a real friend, and he couldn’t claim to have an overabundance of those. If something happened to him…

“Look for him!” he called to Annabeth, and she nodded and darted off towards the back of the ship. Percy felt somewhat relieved. If she wasn’t going below, looking for Grover was the least dangerous task he could come up with on short notice. As for the monster… It had taken a bite out of the mast, and the remaining wood was splintering fast and could come crashing down at any moment. Percy tried to gauge where it would fall, but was distracted when the monster thrashed and sent a giant wave up and over the side of the ship. Percy could have stopped it. At the very least he could have prevented his clothes from getting wet. But that would be suspicious at the least and detrimental to his place in the universe at the worst. So he grudgingly allowed himself to get soaked. He jogged around the bow and met up with a dripping wet and shivering Annabeth. “Find him?” he asked anxiously.

Annabeth shook her head, hugging herself tightly against the chill. Percy realized that it was cold, and it was only thanks to his powers that he wasn’t feeling how icy the water was. Annabeth looked at him strangely. “I’ll keep looking. You aren’t cold?”

“Um… Guess we’re finding out about my epic water powers?” He gave Annabeth a half-hearted grin, and she huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Well, transfer some of those water powers to me, because I’m _freezing._ Also, not sure if this is important, but Darius definitely saw me and he definitely recognized me.”

Percy groaned. “That’s… That… Well, at least there’s a giant war snake on the loose. Maybe he’ll get eaten.”

“Percy!” Annabeth admonished. She pressed her hand into her temple and sighed. “Well, it hardly matters because we’re all gonna die.”

Percy looked back up at the monster, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t had to dodge an assault in over a minute, which was a new record. He spotted the creature hovering above the ship, who clearly wasn’t very bright because it was momentarily defeated by trying to ram its head through the sail and getting very agitated when the fabric moved with it instead of splintering like wood. The Greek fire in its eyes was entirely focused on the canvas, ignoring the sailors running like mad below. _Greek fire_ …

Percy had an _a-ha_ moment, and he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Annabeth,” he said, and she gave him another strange look for sounding so excited. “Greek fire! You know the stuff, right?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Um, of course, because we invented it, a fact you Romans love to so easily forge-”

“Ignore that part,” Percy said, glancing nervously back up at the monster. It had figured out that spitting acid at the sail melted it, which gave him and Annabeth seconds. “You know what it looks like?” Annabeth nodded, so Percy continued. “Go below deck. Find where they keep their weapons. Get a jar of it, bring it back up. I’m going to keep looking for Grover.”

Annabeth grinned at him, and a mutual understanding seemed to pass between them as Annabeth understood Percy’s plan without being told. “This is the most genius idea you’ve had since ever. I mean, you’re still a Seaweed Brain. But this is genius.” Percy wasn’t sure if he should be offended because she called him a Seaweed Brain or flattered because she thought his idea was genius, but there was no time for that. The sail was melted and the monster was refocused on the ship. Percy and Annabeth nodded to each other, before turning to go their separate ways.

Annabeth disappeared below, and Percy began his search for Grover. “Grover?” he called over the wind and the waves and the screams. “Grover!?”

“Here, Percy!” Percy whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. “Over here!” Percy jogged towards the sound, and before long he spotted Grover, trapped under a pile of debris. “Thank goodness,” Grover sighed, as Percy frantically worked to get the debris off of him. “Like eight sailors passed me and no one wanted to help.”

“Annabeth and I were worried about you,” Percy said as he gritted his teeth and pushed one last piece up. Grover scrambled to get out from under it before Percy’s strength gave out and he let the piece go smashing back down. “You disappeared on us, G-Man.”

Grover looked around and tentatively sniffed the air. “Where is Annabeth?”

“She’s below,” Percy said, doing another scan of the sky to make sure the monster wasn’t zeroing in on them. “Getting some Greek fire. The thing’s scales are impenetrable, but if we can just get it to swallow some Greek fire…”

“It dies on the inside,” Grover finished. “That might work.”

Annabeth ran up at that moment, clutching a jar filled with green flames. She spotted Grover and shoved past Percy to hug him. “Thank goodness,” she sighed. “I was afraid you’d been eaten."

“Not eaten,” Grover said, reciprocating the hug. “Just trapped. Percy and his legion muscles had to bail me out.”

Annabeth gave Percy a positively evil grin over Grover’s shoulder. “Fun. Okay, well, I’ve got the Greek fire.” She handed the jar to Percy carefully. “Not that I trust your aim, but you can probably throw farther than me.”

Percy shakily accepted. He had one shot, and if he missed… He didn’t feel like contemplating that. He merely nodded and looked up to find the monster. “Can you guys get its attention?” he asked Annabeth and Grover without looking at them.

“Sure thing,” Annabeth said. “Hey!” she yelled, jumping up and down and screaming at the sky. “Hey you! Yeah, you, you big, ugly snake! Get over here!” The monster whipped its head around, green eyes fixed on Annabeth. It opened its mouth and hissed, like it couldn’t believe she was daring to insult it. "You want a fight?” she screamed. “Fight me! Yeah, that’s right! You couldn’t get me if you tried!”

Percy was a bit unnerved by the satisfaction Annabeth seemed to find in trash talking a three-hundred-foot tall water serpent that got confused by sails, but hey, it was like his mom told him the night before the wedding. You learn something new about your spouse every day.

The monster finally decided it had had enough. It came careening towards them, its giant maw wide open to snap them up. Percy pulled his arm back.

“Percy,” Grover said nervously. “Giant snake coming towards us!”

“A little longer,” Percy said, gritting his teeth in concentration.

“Percy!” Grover yelled.

Percy threw. He hucked the jar with all his might, praying that it would somehow find its way into the monster’s mouth.

It did and it didn’t.

Percy missed by a few inches, and if the monster had kept going, the jar would have sailed by its head. But the monster seemed to think the jar of Greek fire was a tasty treat being tossed to it, so it veered its course and snapped up the jar eagerly.

It wasn’t so eager when the jar exploded in its throat and the monster’s decapitated head went crashing down into the sea.

Percy would have felt sorry for it if it hadn’t tried to sink his ship.

“Nice shot,” Annabeth said sarcastically, crossing her arms and arching a brow at him.

“Hey,” Percy said defensively. “The boat was rocking. Like you could have done any better!”

Annabeth just smiled at him. “You. Me. Throwing competition. As soon as we’re off this boat.”

“I want no part in this,” Grover groaned.

Annabeth looked around nervously. “Okay, so, first imminent threat aside. We have to find Darius.”

“Oh no,” Grover said. “He didn’t… He didn’t find out…”

“Yup,” Annabeth confirmed. “So let’s spread out. Make sure he’s not talking.” Grover darted one way, and Percy turned around to go another. Percy had just taken a step, when all of a sudden- “Percy!” He’d never heard Annabeth scream his name like that. He whipped around, mouth open to reply, but Annabeth wasn’t looking at him. She was looking up, her face terrified. Percy’s senses tingled. They’d just killed the monster. What was she looking at? A new monster? He looked up. The mast, the damaged mast he had completely forgotten about, was careening towards the deck. Towards him.

A solid mass collided with him, but soft and cold and not enough to kill him. Just enough to knock the air out of his lungs as the impact sent him flying backwards by a few feet. Only a few feet. But enough feet that when he sat up, limbs tangled with Annabeth’s, the mast crashed through the deck just inches from his sandals. Breathing hard, he didn’t think to let go of a shaking Annabeth even as he sat up. He couldn’t feel the chill from the water, but her skin was like ice. She pressed her forehead against his and breathed hard, hands clenched around the straps of his armor.

“You _idiot_ ,” she yelled, but it came out in a wheeze. “Did you not see the hundred foot tall mast careening towards your head!?”

Percy’s fingers entwined in her hair. She smelled like lemons up close, and even though the initial shock of being tackled was fading, his heartbeat wasn’t slowing down. “You saved my life,” he breathed. “You saved my life. I owe you… my life!”

Annabeth pulled back, flushing red as she seemed to realize she was essentially sitting in his lap. She gave him a mysterious grin. “Yeah, well, you owe me for a lot, Seaweed Brain. I’ll just add it to your debt.” She got up and dusted herself off, even though there was nothing _to_ dust off.

Percy stayed sitting, because something was wrong. A word she’d used. _Debt_. It rattled around in his brain, until suddenly a very cold feeling settled over him as he realized where he’d heard that word before. The prophecy.

 _And the secret he shares is the debt he repays_.

Even as the monster had loomed overhead, he got the terrifying and somehow exasperating feeling that Annabeth had been thinking about that line before she even saw the mast falling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Annabeth. How I love her schemes.


	9. Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Annabeth
> 
> In which Annabeth does damage control, and is a little confused because even she's not sure why she really tackled her husband out from under that mast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some mild language, and Annabeth and Grover are def participating in some alcohol consumption in a flashback. In ancient times they would be old enough to drink, so technically in this fic they're not doing anything illegal, but here in modern times please don't drink hard liquor if you're seventeen okay peace out.
> 
> Hi. Let me start by saying I am SO sorry. I know I haven't updated in forever, but please please don't think I've forgotten about/given up on this fic. I'm not done, not by a long shot. I've just had some family stuff going on that's taken up a lot of my time, and if I had updated it sooner it probably wouldn't have been the quality you guys deserve. So, while I can't promise weekly updates anymore, I do promise that this fic isn't over till it's over. (And Percabeth never dies so yeah I'm in this for the long run.) So enjoy this update, and my schedule looks a little less crazy coming up so fingers crossed for another update soon. All the love to everyone for being patient with this.  
> ♡ aschuylersister

Annabeth thought it was important to note that she still would have tackled Percy to safety, prophecy or no prophecy. The fact that saving his life opened the door to activating _that_ specific line of the prophecy? Just the icing on the cake.

He owed her a debt now. And he was going to repay it by sharing a secret. Annabeth fully planned on being present when that happened. The look on his face when she used the word ‘debt’ was just _too_ priceless.

But now they had other problems. Like Darius. That was a Problem with a capital P.

Annabeth extended a hand to pull Percy to his feet. He accepted, and she felt his fingers still shaking slightly as they closed around her wrist.

“Come on,” she reminded him, because he was still looking at her strangely. “Darius.”

That snapped him out of it. He shook his head once as if to clear it, before nodding and jogging off the way he was going before the mast fell.

Annabeth sighed as she watched him go. She didn’t want to admit it, but when she saw that mast falling… Her first thought wasn’t to use the event to her advantage. Her first thought was _I don’t want him to die_. That in itself wouldn’t be too bad. There’s a lot of people who she doesn’t want to die. Not dying in general is good. What really scared her was the thoughts that followed after it, not even real thoughts, just fragments that swirled in her brain like smoke in the split second before she lunged.

_I don’t want him to die._

_Because I care about him._

_And losing him would be like losing a part of myself._

_And if that mast kills me, I’d be okay as long as he made it out._

Darius. Annabeth has to find Darius. She strode back across the deck, eyes flashing as she scanned the ruins of the ship. Sailors were running everywhere, shouting like mad, desperately trying to keep the ship afloat. There weren’t so many people as there were before the monster attacked. Annabeth felt a little shell shocked as she saw a few people crying, mourning the people close to them who are gone. It was easy to keep a cool head in the heat of battle. But now, in the wreckage of the aftermath… Annabeth thought it was almost worse.

 _There._ She spotted Darius over by the bow, talking heatedly with some of the other Athenians. Part of Annabeth was a little mad he didn’t get taken out by the monster, because now she has to deal with him herself. The rest of her felt guilty for thinking that. Doesn’t change it. She never _liked_ Darius, particularly. He never gave her father bad advice, but he was always a little too manipulative and power-hungry for Annabeth’s taste. She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to betray her if he thought it would benefit him. But she knows he’s alive. Now she needed a plan.

Annabeth stalked back across the ship, now looking for Percy. She spotted him easily, being congratulated by a crowd of sailors who saw him throw the Greek fire. She rolled her eyes, because honestly that was a _terrible_ throw. She stalked up to them and grabbed Percy by the arm, abruptly dragging him out from the cluster of shocked sailors.

“Hey,” he protested, but Annabeth kept going. When they were a few yards free of people who might overhear, she turned back to face him.

“Found him,” she said, and Percy’s face immediately turned serious. “He’s not dead.”

“Darn,” Percy said, before immediately realizing what he said and looking guilty. “Shoot, I don’t mean that.”

Annabeth shrugged. “Same thought process,” is all she said, but Percy nodded thoughtfully. Annabeth looked around. “Where’s Grover? We need a plan.”

As if answering her, Grover came jogging up to them, slightly out of breath. “I found him. He’s over there. Not dead.”

Annabeth nodded crisply. “We know.”

“Geez,” Grover sighed. “Is there anything you two _don’t_ know?”

Annabeth sighed. “I _don’t_ know how we’re gonna get out of this one. He saw me. He knows me. No taking it back.”

Percy scratched the back of his neck. “There’s no way he’d work with us? I can pay him to keep silent if-”

“No,” Annabeth huffed. “He’s too eager to worm his way into my father’s ear. I already know what he’ll do. He’ll tell my father, hoping it’ll score him some bonus trustworthiness points.”

Percy shrugged. “So we work with it. Don’t let him think that us being here is some big secret. I get the vibe he’s big on gossip, right?”

Annabeth frowned slightly. “I guess. But why-”

“If he thinks we’re not supposed to be here - which we _aren’t_ ,” Percy said, as if she didn’t already know, “he’ll tell everyone. So by that logic, if he thinks we _are_ supposed to be here, he’ll get bored and forget about it.”

Annabeth scowled. “Percy, that’s risky. We’d be letting everyone know that we’re here. We’d be admitting that we lied to begin with, which would make them suspicious. And that means we’d have to do damage control on everybody. So maybe us outing ourselves keeps Darius from saying something. But what if a sailor has a cousin in Rome who he writes to about Caesar Perseus and his wife who are randomly on his ship to Crete? We’d be screwed, worse than if Darius told my father.”

Percy huffed, curling his lips so that the breath flew up and pushed his bangs back. “Well then I’m stumped.”

“Princess!” Annabeth froze in place, all her blood running cold, and she locked eyes with Percy as Darius and the remaining Athenian envoy strode towards them across the deck. “Princess Annabeth!” Annabeth turned as Darius approached, and she felt grateful when Percy took a few steps to stand next to her. Darius stopped a few feet in front of her, and dipped his head in a short bow. He hadn’t changed since Annabeth last saw him. Which, in fact, was only a few weeks ago, which shocked the hell out of her because it felt like it had been years. Years since she saw those droopy, watery blue eyes and that silver goatee slicked into an unfortunately pointy triangle. “What a surprise, seeing you here.”

Annabeth gave him a chilly smile. “It’s Augusta Annabeth now, actually,” she said, her tone hard.

Darius bowed again in apology. “Ah! My apologies. I forgot. And this is…” Darius bowed to Percy, as if just now noticing he was there. “Caesar.”

Even though he was wearing a peasant tunic and his hair wasn’t quite dry from the attack, Percy’s face changed, imperceptible to everyone but Annabeth, at being called Caesar. He looked dangerous again, regal, his eyes slightly hardened as he turned them on Darius.

 _No_ , Annabeth thought wildly. _Don’t go back to being Caesar Perseus. Not when I’m finally starting to feel like this about Percy Jackson._

“May I ask what you’re doing here?” Darius asked, and Annabeth’s heart stopped. This was it. Whatever she said next meant no going back, and the fate of their quest.

She cast Percy a small smile. “Honeymooning!” she said brightly, praying that Darius hadn’t heard that their actual honeymoon was currently happening in Sicily. “We thought it might be nice to drop into Crete. We had no idea that… All of this would happen,” Annabeth said, gesturing around them.

 _This actually might be okay_ , Annabeth thought wildly. The only people listening to them were the Athenians. If they could keep the story they had for the _Iphigenia_ crew and the story that they had for the Athenians separate, it might all actually be okay.

“Ah,” Darius said, nodding in sympathy. “Again, my sincerest apologies that you had to witness all this.” Darius looked between her and Percy suddenly, squinting. “Where is your envoy, if I may ask? Surely you and Caesar Perseus aren’t traveling alone?”

“Eaten,” Percy said quickly, putting a sympathetic hand on Annabeth’s back to make it seem real. “Perished in the jaws of the beast, saving Augusta Annabeth and I’s lives. Very unfortunate.”

Annabeth might have laughed if Darius hadn’t been three feet away. “Very unfortunate indeed,” Darius repeated, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Percy continued. “The only one left is Grover here, our, um…”

“Secretary,” Grover said helpfully. Or non helpfully, considering the fact that why on earth would Percy or Annabeth bring a secretary on a honeymoon?

Annabeth didn’t have time to glare at him, though. “So!” she said brightly. “In light of recent events, the Caesar and I might just cut our trip to Crete short. Our next stop was Sicily. We’ll probably just book a passage to go there straight away. Right, darling?” She bumped Percy lightly with her hip, and he looked at her with wide eyes before taking the hint.

“Oh, right! That is, we’ll be in Sicily within a week. So if you’re looking for us, or want to tell anyone where we are, we’re in Sicily. Sicily, for the rest of our honeymoon, definitely not in Crete, ever at all, under any circumstances.” He glanced at Annabeth like _was that any good?_

Annabeth tried not to groan because whatever miracle he pulled with the envoy lie must have been a fluke. He’s a terrible liar. But Darius must have still been in shock from their battle with the sea monster because he accepted it with a nod. “But,” he said, shaking a finger in Annabeth’s face. “You _must_ stay for the party tonight.”

“Tonight?” Annabeth asked, but as she looked around she realized it was already almost dawn.

“Tonight,” Darius confirmed. “I won’t hear excuses. It’s the tribute’s send-off before they go into the Labyrinth.”

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a look. Being at a party means being seen, being introduced to dozens of people who might betray them to Octavian.

“I don’t think -” Annabeth started, but at that moment, a horn sounded, something calling out to them across the waves. Annabeth cursed under her breath. “Oh, what now?”

“Land, ho!” Somebody yelled, and Annabeth turned to look as the horizon broke. A dark mass came up with the first few rays of the sun. Land. Crete.

“Ah,” Darius said. “That’s our cue. We’d better go check on the tributes.”

Annabeth grimaced, thinking about those poor tributes trapped below deck, probably frightened out of their wits and unsure what was happening above.

Darius bowed in parting and Annabeth turned to Percy. “We can _not_ go to that party,” she said vehemently, and Percy frowned down at her with an edge to his expression.

“I know. And if Darius can’t accept it then tough. I’m the Caesar.”

“Don’t do that,” Annabeth whispered, mostly to herself, so much so that she was taken aback when Percy replied.

“What?”

“Don’t do that,” Annabeth repeated, louder, more sure of herself. “Don’t go back to being Caesar. Because I like you so much better when you’re Percy.”

Percy’s expression softened. “I’m always Percy,” he said gently, but Annabeth shook her head.

“No you’re not. When you’re the Caesar, you’re confused and scared and you do stupid shit like letting a _child_ die in the Games. But when you’re Percy, you’re, I don’t know… You’re nice and you’re funny and you’re someone… Someone I…”

A memory came back to her. A memory from just two nights ago, aboard this very ship. The sailors were throwing a party, for some superstitious sailor holiday that was apparently just an excuse to get drunker than usual. Percy, Annabeth and Grover were invited to the festivities, and Annabeth had been playing a card game with Grover and a few of the sailors. Percy was over to the side, just watching, apparently not interested in drinking harder liquor.

* * *

 

_Annabeth was being hit on. Aggressively, by one of the sailors, a guy named Adrian, and Annabeth might have thought he was cute if he wasn’t drunk as heck and she wasn’t married. Finally, when she couldn’t take any more, she abruptly folded her hand in the game they were playing and excused herself. She wasn’t sure where she was going, so she was surprised when she found herself walking towards Percy._

_Well, not walking. Stomping. Which maybe partially explained the apprehensive look on his face as she approached._

_He opened his mouth to say something but instead, she walked right up to him, still not looking directly at him, and plopped down cross-legged on the ground at his feet, half hiding behind his legs, her hands curled in her dress as she scowled at the crowd._

_“Everything good, princess?” he asked tentatively, peering down at her, unsure whether to be amused or concerned._

_“Yeah,” she sighed. “Just thought I’d hang out here. Some guy keeps tenaciously hitting on me, so I figured he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try again if I was sitting with you.”_

_Percy frowned, eyes darting back out to the party. “Which guy?”_

_“Does it matter?” Suddenly, Annabeth looked up at him, her mouth twisting up as she realized what he was thinking. “Relax, Percy. He hasn’t tried anything serious.”_

_Percy frowned down at her. “Okay… Just… Be careful.”_

_Annabeth smiled up at him. Why is she smiling at him? It must be the slight buzz of the alcohol, making her do crazy things. “You’re sweet to be concerned. And I am being careful. Why do you think I’m over here hiding behind you?” Annabeth felt like doing something bold. So, against better judgement, she rested her upper body against his leg, her head pressed into the back of his knee and her ankles crossed over the top of his sandals. She smothered a grin as she felt Percy jolt in surprise and watched as he looked out into the crowd to see if anyone was watching, but everyone was too drunk to care. Or even notice. Meanwhile, Annabeth hoped that the meaning of her gesture was implicit._

_I trust you._

_Annabeth sighed contentedly, and Percy looked out at the party where Grover was doing shots with the captain and smiled._

* * *

 

“Someone you _what_?” Percy snapped, and his expression isn’t good but it isn’t bad and Annabeth has never felt more confused over anything in her entire life.

Annabeth scowled instinctively at his tone. “Someone I _like_ ,” she practically shouted, and Percy looked so surprised that she deflated a little. “So don’t do that,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure where she was going but she knew that she couldn’t be around Percy much longer. So she turned, walking away, walking back across the ship.

“Annabeth!” she heard him yell somewhere behind her. “Annabeth!”

Annabeth headed below. Because it’s been a long night, and she’s not sure she can face her husband right now.


	10. You Can Do Better For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Percy
> 
> In which feelings are felt and Percy has a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mushu voice* I RISEEEEEEEEE
> 
> Oh my gosh, guys. Let me just start by saying I am very truly so sorry for the inadvertent hiatus. Back in August when I hit pause on this whole shebang, my life had just taken a turn at the corner of crazy and send help. And it kinda stayed that way, all the way up until this past Christmas season. That, coupled with a frustrating bout of writer's block, made me mostly inactive on ao3. So if you're still here, still subscribed (and especially you sweet people who left comments even in the midst of my absence) THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY TERRIBLE PERCABETH HEART. My New Year's resolution is to get back on the updating wagon, so let's get this train rolling again. May 2018 be a year of more Percabeth, more aschuylersister getting her life together, and more of you lovely people being lovely and reading this fic.  
> ♡ aschuylersister

Percy stayed on the deck of the ship, one hand surreptitiously extended, commanding the waves under the ship to keep it afloat until they reached shore.

Otherwise, the whole thing would have been at the bottom of the ocean faster than you could say ‘giant stupid sea monster’.

The sailors and the Athenians attributed it to some miracle of the gods, praising Poseidon and throwing some nice jewelry overboard in tribute.

Percy snorted and rolled his eyes, because he knew for a fact that his dad would have just let them all drown.

Annabeth only appeared back on the deck when they reached the docks, and only when Grover went down to get her. She and Grover came back up with all their luggage, which wasn’t much, but they’d still been nice enough to grab Percy’s too. Well, Grover had been nice enough. Fight or no fight, Percy was pretty sure Annabeth would have found it funny if all his clothes went down with the ship that disappeared below the dock the minute the last sailor scrambled off of it.

Annabeth made idle chatter with Grover, still pointedly ignoring Percy, which stung. Percy did kind of know what she meant when she said that Percy and Caesar Perseus were two different people. He felt it, he felt different when he knew no one was watching his every move, expecting him to keep secrets and lead armies and defend and conquer nations. He felt like it was easier to laugh. But Annabeth didn’t seem to understand that the different side of him was _necessary_ . Happy-go-lucky _Iphigenia_ Percy might be a really nice guy, and maybe even the “real” Percy (whatever that meant), but he would be toast in Rome. He wouldn’t last a _day_. He’d be eaten alive.

Caesar Perseus was pretty screwed up. But at least he was alive.

As they stood on the docks and watched, the Athenian prisoners were marched along the wooden planks towards the city. Their eyes were down and their faces were drawn, but some of them glanced at Percy and Annabeth and Grover. Percy stood apprehensively, wishing he could do something but unable to think of an action that would be better than its repercussions.

As the Athenians made their way by, Percy glanced over at Annabeth, who seemed deep in thought. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and without so much as glancing at Percy and Grover she strode right up to Darius, a pained smile plastered on her face.

“Darius!” she said brightly, and the Athenian turned at his name. “I just spoke with my husband. We’re so sorry we won’t be able to attend your party, but we just managed to secure last minute passage on a ship to Sicily. It’s leaving within the hour, and we tried to talk them into staying one more night but it just can’t wait. We must part ways now, I’m afraid.” Annabeth pursed her lips in an expression of blatant sorrow, and even Percy could almost believe that she really really wished she was going to Darius’s party instead.

Percy held his breath. Disappointment lingered on Darius’s face for a fraction of a second, but he seemed to get over it pretty fast. “Ah, well. Next time, eh?” He bowed to Annabeth, and looked over her shoulder and bowed to Percy. “A pleasure seeing you, as always, Princ- Augusta.”

Annabeth nodded curtly, before marching back over to Percy and Grover. “Whether or not he tells my father he saw us remains to be seen,” she said quietly. “But we’ll worry about that later.” Percy watched her warily, unsure how to navigate this dangerous new mood. As if she could hear what he was thinking, Annabeth rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I overreacted on the ship. It was a long day. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

Percy could tell she still meant it, was still bothered by it, that it still needed to be addressed. The tension between them was still palpable. But her tone left no room for discussion, so Percy nodded. “Okay. What now?”

Annabeth squared her shoulders. “Now, we find a way into the Labyrinth.” She looked up past the docks, where the walls of the palace at Knossos loomed threateningly. “We’ll stay here for an hour, and after that we become invisible. And we _stay_ invisible.”

That hour was the longest hour of Percy’s life. It reminded him of the first night he met Annabeth, when they were hiding in the garden from Octavian - tense, angry, and silent. Grover attempted to make some light conversation with both of them individually, but it was clear that Annabeth was still angry with Percy.

That made _Percy_ mad. What right did she have to be so angry? Percy hadn’t done anything to make her angry _yet_. She was being prematurely angry for something he hadn’t even done yet.

He was halfway to angry himself when Annabeth called time.

It was a silent, bitter walk through the streets of Knossos. Annabeth stomped ahead, shouldering her way through crowds of people at the marketplace who jumped out of her way in surprise, cursing and sending backwards glances that Grover tried to intercept with hasty apologies and frenzied hand gestures. Percy, on the other hand, brought up the rear, moving quietly and staying just far enough behind that people wouldn’t know he was with them. For all Annabeth’s “staying invisible” plan, she sure was drawing a solid amount of attention.

It wasn’t until the walls of the palace loomed in sight that Percy jogged to catch up, brushing past Grover who gave him a pained look that so clearly said _Don’t do it bro._

Ignoring him, Percy came up alongside Annabeth, who went to pointedly ignore him, checked herself, and turned her head without slowing her pace, giving him a stiff, close-lipped smile. “Yes?”

“Okay, Wise Girl, your whole Darius plan, although risky and unconfirmed by me, I get. But what exactly are we going to do now? Do you actually have a plan or are you just walking really fast for no reason?”

Annabeth scoffed indignantly. “Of _course_ I have a plan. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Well, would you be so kind as to enlighten the ignorant masses?” he shot back, gesturing to himself and Grover.

Annabeth looked like she was biting back a laugh. “Fine. We’re going to sneak into the Labyrinth.”

Percy choked on air. “ _That’s_ your plan!? This is ridiculous, Annabeth! I could have come up with something that stupid.”

Annabeth colored, her lips drawn in a thin white line. “Oh really? Is _that_ what you think?” She stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists, and behind Percy, Grover bleated nervously.

“Well now you’ve done it,” he whispered, but Percy had no time to reply before Annabeth exploded.

“Newsflash Seaweed Brain! That’s the best we’ve got right now! The idea of swapping out with the prisoners might have worked, but that went out the window the moment Darius recognized us. We have no idea about the schematics of the palace, the schematics of the _Labyrinth_ , whether it’s heavily guarded or ‘hey, walk right in to your doom!’ We don’t know _anything_ , Percy, except that we have to sneak into the Labyrinth, so that’s exactly what we’re going to do. We just need to do a bit of scouting first.”

Percy just stared at her blankly. So many emotions were warring in his chest right now that he didn’t know which way to turn. Guilt over his hasty rebuttal of her plan, anger over the way she’d been ignoring him all morning, or just the annoying, undeniable fact that she was really cute when she was angry.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he ended up saying, holding up his hands in surrender. “I see your point. I’m just a little… apprehensive, is all. This is really risky, even for me.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Soldier of the legion, cowering in the shadow of a maze.”

Percy choked on air for the second time in five minutes. “Okay, now wait just a minute-”

Annabeth rolled her eyes again, a hint of a smile quirking up the corners of her lips. “Come on.”

She started walking again, but not as fast, and some of the tension had left her shoulders. Percy stayed behind for a minute, turning to look at Grover. “What just happened?”

“Girls,” Grover said sagely, and although that answered absolutely nothing, Percy consented to follow along behind Annabeth as they made their way towards the palace.

The palace at Knossos was sizeable, although nowhere near the scale of the Imperial palace back in Rome. A stucco wall ran all the way around it, a heavy wooden portcullis separating the inner courtyard from the city outside. However, the portcullis was propped open, allowing for a stream of traffic going in and out. The only security appeared to be a handful of bored-looking guards, chatting idly as they viewed the throng.

For the first time since arriving, Annabeth shot Percy a worried glance. “Labyrinth,” she said, her voice lilting up like a question.

“Labyrinth,” Percy repeated, trying to sound sure enough for both of them.

With a deep breath, the three took their first steps into the palace.

The courtyard appeared to be a hub of sorts, full of servants rushing in and out, guards performing perfunctory marches in preparation of some kind, but the focus seemed to be the mob of people all clamoring for a glimpse of something over by the wall.

It didn’t take long to guess, based on the general vibe of the shouts that rang out.

“Dirty Athenians!”

“Look at them, the good-for-nothing lot!”

“Bet the monster eats that one first!”

“No, no, it’s gonna be her, the scrawny one right there!”

Percy glanced worriedly at Annabeth, who was standing stock still against the wall, her back rigid and her eyes glassy.

Just then, a group of people walked by them, clearly on their way back from just viewing the prisoners, all talking loudly.

“Recognize any of them? Any royals in the crop this year?” a man asked.

“No,” his female companion replied. “Not one. All commoners.”

“Bah,” the man spat. “I was looking forward to that Athena scum, Princess Annabeth, getting picked.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” the woman said, sounding truly sad. “They married her off to the Roman emperor. She’s out of it now.”

The man shook his head. “Shame.” Suddenly, a wicked gleam appeared in his eyes. “Maybe they’ll get one of her brothers instead.”

Everyone laughed, and the group moved out of earshot.

Percy felt blood pounding in his ears. He hadn’t realized his hand was on the hilt of his gladius until he looked down and felt the leather on the handle cutting into his palm.

_Annabeth._

He turned, and saw her slumped against the wall, her eyes distant and tumultuous, her hands balled in the skirt of her chiton and her chest heaving with labored breaths.

“Annabeth-” he started, but she cut him off when she swiveled those storm-cloud eyes onto him.

“I hope they all die,” she spat venomously, and Percy was too taken aback to say anything. “Them and their precious Labyrinth. I hope they all fall into the sea.”

Percy hesitantly put what he hoped was a reassuring hand on her arm. “We’ll kill the Minotaur. That will put a stop to all of this.”

But Annabeth shook her head. “Monsters are a dime a dozen in Greece. They’ll just find some new creature to put there. This won’t stop. Look at them. They want blood. Athenian blood. _My_ blood.” Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but true to form, she didn’t allow a single one to spill over onto her skin. “It won’t stop. Not until someone says it does.”

“ _I_ say it does,” Percy said, the conviction behind his words surprising even himself. “Being Caesar Perseus means a lot of bad things, you’re right. But Crete is small and I can pull a lot of weight. When we get back to Rome, if you’re right and killing the Minotaur wasn’t enough, I’ll do something. For you.” He laughed sadly, more of a scoff at himself. “Call it international diplomacy.”

Annabeth’s eyes met his, proudly, unwillingly, full of too many emotions to name. “I hope you mean that, Percy. I really do.”

………………

Percy kept trying to check on Annabeth as they made their way into the palace, but she had closed herself off, becoming even more hard to read than usual, which was already impossible. Her words were fine, quippy, smart, full of that vaguely patronizing charm that infuriated and intrigued him in equal measure. But her smile never reached her eyes, they simply remained cold and distant and sad. Percy tried to reassure himself with the fact that anyone’s would be after hearing what Annabeth just heard, but now more than ever they needed to be on the same page, what with a Labyrinth and a creepy prophecy and all. Neither of them had done much towards that same-page goal, he reflected.

_ No more _ . From now on, transparency for both, living in the here and now, Percy decided resolutely. Too many questions lingered about their future once they got off Crete, and those would have to be problems for  _ once they got off Crete _ .

The palace was a bit more closed off than the one in Rome, probably due to the colder, stormier weather here on the island. It was all wood and stone hallways, torches set in wooden braziers that were losing in their battle to fight off the cold and damp. Annabeth, Percy and Grover stuck to the shadows beneath them, trying to blend into the streams of servants that darted about, no doubt preparing the palace for its influx of noble guests here to watch this week’s spectacle.

The send-off into the Labyrinth.

The spectacle of watching people consigned to die, dying.

It was quite sickening, actually.

Percy was hit with a realization that stopped him in his tracks.

“Percy?” Annabeth questioned, turning around upon realizing he was no longer with her, pulling Grover by the arm.

The words flew out of Percy’s mouth before he could stop them. “The Games. This is no different than the Games. Rome is no better than Crete. Except instead of a Minotaur, we have Octavian. And… me.”

Annabeth’s face was caught somewhere between the satisfaction of being right and the sadness that she was right. “So now you see,” she said, her voice heavy. She stepped closer, her eyes serious, putting a hand on Percy’s face and forcing him to look her in the eyes. “But you are  _ not _ Octavian. Never mistake that. You can be better. You can do better. For yourself, for Rome...” He voice wavered with some emotion he couldn’t name. “And for me.”

Percy was caught off guard by that last declaration. He could hardly stand to look her in the eyes when he spoke. “I’m sorry, Annabeth. I’m so sorry.”

Everything else was gone. The noise, the rush of blood in his ears, Grover hanging back awkwardly behind Annabeth’s shoulder, clearly feeling uncomfortable in the middle of their moment, the servants jogging by on the other side of the hall.

It was just him. It was just Annabeth. It was just Annabeth’s eyes, the centers of the storm swirling around them.

So when he kissed her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

So many things bled over into that kiss. All the hurt, the sadness, the guilt, the fear he’d been feeling over the past twenty four hours evaporated at the feeling of her lips on his, and he was gone. He was a goner for Annabeth Chase, the girl he’d married because the world said so.

His mental faculties were still buzzing when she pulled back, and he had no time to register anything else before Annabeth’s startled eyes drifted somewhere over his shoulder and widened in alarm.

“Octavian!” she hissed, grabbing onto his upper arms with a death grip. “Hide!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... That just... Happened.


	11. The Aftermath of a Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Annabeth
> 
> In which the aftermath of a Percabeth kiss is a bit messier than the aftermath of your average kiss, and Annabeth's desire for alone time causes some problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoaaa, I know what you're thinking. New update so soon? Don't get too comfortable, I'm just on a bit of a hot streak after being gone so long. So, in the last chapter, there was a bit of a *whispers* Percabeth kiss!? Again, don't get too comfortable. We just gettin' started over here. But I CAN say that I am especially proud of the vibe of this chapter, and that chapter 12 is gonna be a MAJOR TURNING POINT for a lot of stuff I've been setting up for a while. We're getting answers to several questions, but in true Percabeth fashion, a whole new set of problems to go with them. So grab your popcorn and settle in. Things are about to go INSANE.  
> ♡aschuylersister

All Annabeth could think when he kissed her was _this stupid green-eyed idiot_ . Now she actually had to _confront_ her feelings. And for Annabeth, there was no worse fate.

So when she finally pulled away, her lips still tingling as if with electricity and her thoughts foggy except for the twin clear points of his eyes, she experienced the only time in her life when she’d feel an emotion for Octavian other than complete disgust-bordering-on-hatred. _Relief_. The snake himself was marching down the hallway, eyes flashing, several legion soldiers marching in unison behind him. A terrified looking servant scrambled to keep up with him, saying something that was too far away to hear.

“Octavian!” she hissed, her muddled brain grateful for something to focus on other than _that kiss_. “Hide!”

Percy’s muffled curses as she hooked one arm around him and the other around Grover as the three scrambled for the nearest break in the passageway were music to her ears, as opposed to the other and rather serious things they had been discussing just moments prior. Annabeth still felt jarred and unsettled, a feeling she _hated_. It’s because it’s one of the only times when she feels out of control.

A break in the passageway appeared a few steps later, and they ducked into it, only to find that it wasn't actually a room or another hallway, just a shallow, decorative alcove housing some spears and shields mounted on the wall. They huddled together, eyeing each other in abject terror because this was their one shot at escape and now they’re in a stupid alcove, that anyone with eyes would be able to see in its entirety in passing.

Annabeth focused on breathing quietly through her nose, and clapped a hand over Percy’s mouth when he didn’t. His lips were soft against her palm, reminding her of the fact that _she just kissed those lips about thirty seconds ago oh my-_

“I want my rooms prepared _yesterday_ ,” Octavian barked, footsteps echoing as he came closer.

“Y-yes, my lord,” his companion stuttered. “It’s just that, well, we weren’t expecting you, and-”

“No excuses!” Octavian snapped. “The best suite in the palace, and nothing less. Although, this is a heap of rubble compared to the glory of _Rome_.”

“... yes,” the servant replied hesitantly, and Annabeth looked at Percy with alarm because his voice was _right there_.

“A-ha!” Octavian yelled, and Annabeth felt her heart drop to her sandals because suddenly Octavian is standing right in front of them, watery blue eyes boring down on her own. “See, I told you we’d find them in Crete!”

Annabeth’s entire body went on lockdown, mind spinning as she searched desperately for a plan, but all she could come up with were questions with no answers.

“In retrospect,” Percy said weakly as he gently lowered Annabeth’s hand away from his face, “this is a nook. And we were really stupid if we thought he would walk past this nook without seeing us. In this nook.”

“Stop saying ‘nook’,” Annabeth hissed through bared teeth. “And proper language would suggest _alcove_.”

Octavian’s face was a picture of maniacal glee. “Legion!” he yelled jubilantly. “Arrest these traitors, for treason against the motherland!”

“M-my lord,” the soldier in the front said nervously. “This is Caesar Perseus and Augusta Annabeth. You said high ranking officials, you didn’t say...”

Octavian’s lips curled cruelly. “I am well aware of who they are, soldier. Do you want your payment or not?”

“Bribing my legion,” Percy said, his voice flat as he stared Octavian down. “Inspired, Octavian, truly inspired.” Suddenly, he drew his gladius, carefully as to avoid nicking Annabeth or Grover in the small space. “Last chance,” he told the soldiers behind Octavian. “Are you loyal to Rome or to money? Choose wisely, and I will have you reinstated in the legion, no questions asked. Choose ill, and you’ll answer to your praetor.”

“Praetor Grace or Praetor Ramirez-Arellano?” Annabeth heard someone mutter.

“This is ridiculous,” Octavian barked. “You’ll all answer to your _new_ Caesar, as soon as this one is tried and found guilty in front of the Senate.”

“Octavian, this is ridiculous,” Annabeth interceded quickly. “So we lied about where we were honeymooning. That’s not a capital crime, you can’t find us guilty of anything!”

“Don’t play the fool with me, girl,” Octavian snarled. “I know why you’re really here. I was merciful. I told Perseus that if he ever stepped out of line, his crimes would be brought to light. It seems that he’s done more than that, he’s dragged you down with him. I’ll enjoy watching the two of you burn.” Octavian stepped back, apparently bored. “Guards! Arrest the- _oof_.”

With one swift stroke, Octavian took a blow to the back of the head from the butt of one wooden cudgel, and collapsed to the floor in a heap. Slack-jawed, Annabeth and Percy both turned to look at Grover Underwood, who was standing over Octavian defiantly. “That’s for the past five years,” he bleated, and Annabeth made incredulous eye contact with Percy over the top of his head.

“Nice going, G-Man,” Percy said, still sounding shocked. He turned to the traitorous soldiers, who were still gaping down at their supposed leader. “Well,” he said, hefting his gladius. “Any arguments?” The soldiers all looked at each other and then quickly shook their heads. “No? Well, if I were you, I’d stay away from Rome for a bit. Or forever. Depending on how soon you’d like to taste death at the hands of Praetor Ramirez-Arellano.”

The soldiers all nodded quickly and darted back down the hall the way they’d came, and Annabeth breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“What do we do with him?” Grover said suddenly, and they all turned their attention back down to the unconscious Pontifex.

“Drown him in a moat,” Annabeth muttered, and Grover started to nod before Percy interjected.

“We can’t kill him,” Percy said woefully.

Annabeth turned and scowled. What was with this idiot? For mysterious reasons, Percy had been living under Octavian’s thumb, and here he is with the perfect opportunity to change all that and he says what now? “Don’t tell me this is some flash of conscience,” she started angrily. “You’ve fought in the legion, you’ve killed people, probably people less evil than him.”

Percy sputtered, clearly frustrated. “It’s not like that! We literally _can’t kill him_ . He holds a lot of influence in the Senate, more so than I do. If he disappears, they’ll start asking questions. And all of those soldiers literally _just saw us_ with his body. Octavian technically hasn’t done anything wrong within Roman law. If those soldiers testify, we could be facing punishment for a crime we really did commit.”

“So get rid of the soldiers,” Annabeth said darkly, but as soon as the words left her mouth she knew they couldn’t do that. The soldiers, swayed by material matter as they were, didn’t deserve to die. Annabeth couldn’t cut them down in cold blood. Percy was right, and she hated him for it. She sighed. “So what do we do?”

Percy sighed and rubbed his temples like he was getting a headache. “All I know is that he has to make a public appearance in Rome at some point soon, or the Senate will start investigating and all signs will point back to us. For now, I say we keep him prisoner, finish the quest, and deal with it back in Rome.”

Annabeth processed the words, and nodded slowly. “Okay. I don’t like it, but it’s the best we’ve got. Let’s stash him somewhere while we go into the maze. But where…” She turned thoughtfully, and her eyes caught on the figure of the servant who had been trying to appease Octavian earlier, slowly trying to creep away. A slow smile spread across her face. “You there!” she shouted, and the servant froze and turned like a startled deer.

“Yes?” he responded meekly.

Annabeth made eye contact with Percy, and both nodded simultaneously. “How would you like to become very rich, very quickly?”

………

Ten minutes later, the man they now knew to be named Hale was showing them into a spacious room on the side of the palace overlooking the ocean.

“No one will bother you here,” he assured them distractedly, still counting through the pile of denarii Percy gave him. “Most guests are given rooms closer to the center.”

“This is perfect,” Annabeth thanked him, motioning for Percy and Grover to set the still-unconscious Octavian down on the chaise. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Hale replied. “Best of luck with your…” He looked up from his money for the first time since they’d handed it to him, looking nervously at the Octavian’s form. “Endeavors.” With that, he bowed politely and exited, shutting the door behind him.

“We have to tie him up,” Annabeth said decisively. “He’s going to wake up sooner or later most likely while we’re not here.”

“I’ll handle that,” Grover volunteered. “Satyrs are excellent at tying knots.”

Annabeth and Percy exchanged a glance, and Annabeth clapped her hands. “Sounds good. I’ll be outside.”

There was a small white stone balcony jutting off the side of the room, separated by gauzy white curtains and looking out over the sea. Annabeth stepped out onto it, half hoping Percy wouldn’t follow her. She acutely felt the need to be alone with her thoughts, to process how much things had changed ( _again_ ) in the past half hour. No such luck. Percy joined her, albeit leaving her some respectful space by standing on the other side of the small balcony. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ledge, gazing out hungrily at the view. A breeze picked up the ends of the curtains, and they lift up and over him, partially shrouding him as he flickered in and out of Annabeth’s view. When he turned to look at her, there was a strange light in his eyes.

“Can we talk? About what happened?”

Annabeth inhaled sharply, turning away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, more to herself than Percy.

“Yes you do,” Percy said, ignoring her. “Can we talk about it?”

“No,” Annabeth said too quickly. “We cannot.”

She dared to look up, and was met with disappointed green eyes. “Okay,” he said, surprising her. She assumed he would have pushed it. She’s almost disappointed that he didn’t push it. “Then can we talk about how Octavian found us?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Annabeth burst out empathetically. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else! This is ridiculous. My first thought was Darius, but there’s no _way_ that could have happened so fast.

Percy nodded in agreement. “No, not unless he… No, he couldn’t have. And no one else knew we were here! Well, nobody we don’t trust.”

Annabeth was nodding. “Piper, Thalia and Leo wouldn’t have betrayed us.”

“Neither would Reyna,” Percy added. “Or… Luke?”

Annabeth met his frown with a frown of her own. “I thought he was nice, but maybe I was too hasty. You don’t think…”

“How could he have, though?” Percy questioned. “He’s been with Thalia this whole time. Unless…”

They stared at each other for a moment. “It’s the only thing we’ve got that remotely makes sense,” Annabeth reasoned.

“Well, when Octavian wakes up we’ll ask him,” Percy said, punctuating the statement by a dark chuckle. That resolved, they fell into a peaceful silence. Except for one thing, the thing that’s been nagging at Annabeth the most.

“Percy?” Annabeth asked abruptly, a few minutes later.

“Mm?” Percy responded, turning to look at her like he’d just been pulled from some deep thought. Annabeth is caught for a moment on the sight. Him, laid out against the backdrop of a sparkling, bottle-green sea, his black hair caught up in the wind, his eyes serious and his expression suspended in question, focused entirely on her. It took her a moment to regroup, and when she did, the words came out rushed.

“What did Octavian mean back there, when he said that crimes you committed would be brought to light?” Percy’s expression immediately shut down, and Annabeth’s heart ached. “You can tell me, Percy,” she said softly, ignoring the part of her brain that sat in judgement and questioned whether the softness was real or manipulative. “I think you know me well enough by now to know that I would never use anything against you. We’re on the same side.”

The words, at least, were true.

Percy’s eyes caught on hers, frozen for a moment, searching her for some semblance of truth. “But would you look at me the same way again?”

Annabeth didn’t think, she answered. “How can I know that, Percy?” The word are more breath than air. Whatever Percy was searching for, he didn’t find, because he shook his head and the connection broke.

“I’m sorry Annabeth. I can’t… I just… Can we just focus on the quest right now? Please?”

He’s looking at her with such a pleading, hopeful expression, and Annabeth couldn’t help but cave. “Fine,” she said, pointing a slightly playful finger at his chest. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation for good.” The mood lightened somewhat, Percy nodded enthusiastically and exited the balcony, leaving Annabeth a bit more empty than she’d been before.

………

Percy, Annabeth, and Grover double, triple, and quadruple checked the bonds holding Octavian before they left.

“If this doesn’t hold him,” Grover declared empathetically before their departure, “then _nothing_ will.”

Percy nodded. “I can’t believe he’s still out. You hit him _hard_ , G-Man.”

Grover blushed slightly. “Well, what can I say? Five years of pent up rage and aggression, I guess.”

Annabeth squeezed his shoulder fondly. “I say you should have hit him harder.”

They made their way down after that, resolutely determined to make their way into the Labyrinth once and for all.

They followed the traffic until it got steadily busier, until soon they were in the heart of the palace. It was insanely busy, everybody appearing to be celebrating the send-off into the maze.

“The official send-off is in the morning,” Annabeth whispered to her companions as they hung back at the edge of what seemed to be one of several banquet halls. “Always at dawn. They’ll party the night away and stumble drunkenly to the entrance in the morning.” She frowned, trying to keep her anger from clouding her judgement.

Percy deftly sidled over and grabbed a handful of some kind of seafood off someone’s abandoned plate. “Not good,” he said, barely intelligible around a mouthful of food. “Things that happen at dawn are always bad. You know, executions, decisions, duels. All at dawn. Why can’t fun things happen at dawn? Like… a dawn wedding?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Our wedding was so late at night it might as well have _been_ dawn,” she said without thinking, immediately balking once she realized what she just said. An uncomfortable silence passed over them as she and Percy both remembered with alarm the fact that they were indeed married. Annabeth elected to pluck something that looked vaguely edible off the table and stuff it into her mouth, effectively silencing anymore stupid comments that might come out.

They skulked around a bit more, getting a general feel for the place, Percy and Annabeth swiping more food and Grover swiping more wooden plates, until they stumbled across a stroke of luck. A group of party-goers wandered by, all laughing with their arms around each other.

“The maze!” one shouted. “I want to see the maze!”

“That’s where we’re going,” another replied, seemingly exasperated as if they had explained this before. “It’s just between the palace and the sea.”

Annabeth, Percy and Grover didn’t even need to exchange glances to make the unanimous decision to follow the group to what seemed to be the entrance to the Labyrinth. More people were gathered there, shrieking and laughing and pointing up at a colossal wooden gate, which was part of what appeared to be a massive wooden fence that stretched on for ages, bordering the sea.

“What’s behind there?” Percy whispered.

Just standing this close send goosebumps racing up and down Annabeth’s arms. “The Labyrinth,” she breathed. “This is it.”

“No way we get into that thing,” Percy said skeptically. “That gate is huge!”

“We have to wait for them to open it,” Grover replied. He looked over at Annabeth. “Tomorrow. The prophecy. We’re here just in time. Tomorrow when they open the gate we’ll have to slip through.

Annabeth nodded distractedly, still looking up at the monstrosity. “Okay… So, get some sleep and come back here at dawn?”

Percy and Grover nodded, and that was that. They abandoned the party as quickly as possible, making their way back up the stairs to their room, when suddenly Annabeth paused.

“You know what?” she said lightly, causing the other two to turn around. “You guys go ahead. I think I’m going to stay down here for a little while.”

Percy frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Annabeth smiled wanly. “Octavian’s tied up, I don’t see what’s the harm. I just really need to be alone and to think right now. I think some fresh air and some pacing should do the trick.”

Percy took a second to think about it, before sighing. “I don’t think this is the best idea you’ve ever had, but I get the feeling an argument about it would end in my defeat anyways.”

Annabeth smiled for real. “Good! So you’re learning!”

They both laughed, a genuine moment in the midst of all the insanity. “See you in a bit?” Percy said, his voice lilting up at the end, making Annabeth smile.

“See you in a bit,” she confirmed, and Percy and Grover continued, laughing and joking about something. Annabeth watched them go with a smile. There was no lie in what she said, she really did feel the urgent need to be alone and to _think_ . There was so much she needed to process: the prophecy, the Labyrinth, Octavian, _that kiss_ . Her head was spinning with problem overload and no respite. She began to do what she’d always done when she had an unsolvable problem. Pacing. Up and down the corridors, blending in easily with the servants as she muttered to herself, hashing through the details of what she was about to embark on. She was so lost in thought that she barely had time to respond when a pair of hands grabbed her from behind, one clapping over her mouth and one seizing around her waist. She fought, struggling, in the first few seconds hoping against hope that this was Percy and his stupid sense of humor. But it only took a few seconds for her to come to the sinking conclusion that this was most definitely _not_ Percy.

It really hit home when Octavian appeared in front of her, awake and free and with the same soldiers from before marching behind him.

“The satyr’s spunk did take me by surprise, I’ll admit,” Octavian said drily. “And refraining from doubt regarding the _loyalty_ of my hires was an oversight,” he continued, and the soldiers surrounding him glanced at each other before looking down at their feet. “It was a nice try overall. But time’s up. And you’re coming with me.”

“No!” Annabeth shrieked, but the hand came back down over her mouth, and before she knew it she was being dragged from the palace back towards the docks. The night was dark, and the way they took wasn’t a main road so there was no one around to hear her as she fought back against the soldiers half dragging half carrying her. After almost getting their fingers bitten off, they gave up on trying to silence her, and she made as much noise as possible but either no one could hear or no one cared.

“I will _end_ you, Octavian,” Annabeth seethed, thrashing about in the soldier’s grip, but he kept walking forward. “You can’t possibly think you’ll succeed. And _you_ ,” she raged, addressing the soldiers surrounding her. “How could you!? Betraying your rightful ruler like this?”

She watched as the soldier in front of her’s shoulders moved up and down in a shrug. “The Pontifex upped the price.”

The rest of them laughed cruelly, sending shivers across the back of her neck.

“My husband will come for me, and he _will_ stop you,” Annabeth spat desperately, unable to believe that those words were coming out of her mouth. A new idea took hold, and she slowly stopped fighting in favor of her new idea. “Or if he doesn’t, he’ll rally the legion. See how your precious Senate holds out once he’s back with Reyna and her army.”

 _That_ got Octavian’s attention. He turned around, to Annabeth’s satisfaction, but to Annabeth’s dismay he began to laugh. “Oh, but my dear, I don’t think he will. Why do you think I have you? With you in my... _care_ , he’ll think twice about turning to his precious praetor for aid when I take the throne.” His voice took a contemptuous turn. “Yes, the legion _would_ rally behind him thanks to that insufferable Ramirez-Arellano girl. But with _you_ on my side…” He reached out and took hold of her chin, and she began to thrash about in an effort to get him to lose his grip. “Perseus won’t be able to do a thing. And we’ll be _unstoppable_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Octavian DID THAT. Wondering how he got out? Me too. And noooo, it's not bc Grover sucks at rope-tying.
> 
> EDIT: One of my friends who reads this fic asked me this question: If Annabeth was able to do the judo-flip thing with Percy at the beginning when he grabbed her from behind, why couldn't she do the same thing with Octavian's soldier who grabbed her in this chapter? A good question, and I realize that it may appear inconsistent. My thought process when writing was that Annabeth in this particular situation would be A) disoriented from being abruptly pulled out of her head and B) smart enough to conserve her energy and not struggle the second she realized she was outnumbered, as opposed to the other situation when she was alone and already in attack mode.   
> So yeah, sorry if you read that and thought what the heck aschuylersister, plot hole much? I promise it is not a plot hole, just something that might have only made sense in my head :)


	12. A Debt Repaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Percy
> 
> A daring rescue op, plus some betrayal!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's baaaaaack.  
> I really have no excuse for how late this update is, except for extreme writer's block of the worst kind. I had most of the dialogue for this chapter prewritten a long time ago (cause for me it's the easiest part), but the rest took longer than I'd like to admit. But I'm here, and so is the chapter, and aaaaaaah I'm so excited for you guys to read it! This one and the next chapter (which will be up soon and I mean soon, don't you worry!) are killer. AAAAAAH.  
> ♡aschuylersister

Percy  _ really _ wanted to talk about That Kiss. And it ate him up inside that Annabeth was so callously avoiding the topic. It needled at him incessantly, the whole way back up to the room that Hale procured for them. The second he kissed her, he was one hundred percent sure that he’d really like to kiss her again. The idea that she might not feel the same scared him, as much as the some of the scariest things he’d ever faced.

It was the primary thing on his mind when Grover pushed the door open and let out a small shriek. Percy immediately shoved past him, on the defensive, gladius drawn. He was greeted with… nothing. The room was completely empty. Strangely empty. Almost like there was something…

_ Octavian _ .

Percy cursed, and Grover darted over to the chaise where Octavian had formerly been tied up. There was nothing there but some frayed pieces of rope.

“This is  _ not _ my fault,” Grover interjected drily. “This is exactly why I had you and Annabeth double check the ropes. We are all equally to blame.”

“Annabeth!” Percy remembered with a jolt. “She’s wandering around by herself! With Octavian on the loose. She doesn’t know he’s escaped, she’s probably off her guard.”

“Since Annabeth isn’t here to defend herself, I’ll play devil’s advocate and remind you that Octavian probably weighs eighty pounds soaking wet. I’m pretty sure Annabeth can handle him.”

“Not if he re-recruited those legionnaires.  _ Ex _ -legionnaires,” Percy corrected himself. “If they’re as stupid as I’m assuming they are, all it will take to get them back on Octavian’s side is a raise in price.”

Grover nervously bit at his cuticle. “Okay, then we’d better go find her.  _ And _ Octavian.”

Percy nodded, a bit distractedly, and with that they made their way back down into the palace at a sprint, combing every room they could get into. They didn’t split up - it was too tricky to set up a rendezvous point, not to mention the likelihood of them surviving another encounter with Octavian and the legionnaires decreasing on their own.

By the time they had scanned the entire first floor of the palace, Percy was beginning to grow agitated. The idea that in the time they had wasted in the palace, Octavian had found Annabeth and taken her somewhere else was starting to needle at him. As they made their way back down the corridor, Percy impulsively grabbed a servant girl by the arm and pulled her to the side, not focusing on the way her eyes widened in fear.

“Have you seen the Roman Pontifex, Octavian?”

The girl took a long pause before answering. “I- I believe so, sir. A while ago. He was leaving.”

Percy cursed involuntarily, fighting despair. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and take a deep breath before forging ahead. “Could you see if he had a girl with him? Blonde, curly hair, about yea high.” Percy held a hand up to the space around his lower face to demonstrate Annabeth’s height.

The girl, still wide-eyed and leaning back away from him, nodded quickly. “I believe so.”

………………

“As far as bad ideas go, this isn’t one of your better ones.”

“Thanks, G-Man. ‘Preciate it.”

It’s times like these when Percy is very glad that he’s very rich. Otherwise, the guy with the boat would definitely not have let two strangers take it out with vague promises to maybe return in the middle of the night. Percy would have felt bad, except for the two facts that Annabeth was in trouble and they left the guy with enough money to buy two new boats if this one didn’t make it back.

“This boat is going really fast, don’t you think?” Grover hedged a little nervously, and Percy distractedly lowered his hand so it wasn’t so obvious but did nothing to ease up on the speed he was willing the waves to push them along at. He could feel  _ everything _ at sea: where they were, where they were going, where other creatures and ships were. It was his own personal sixth sense.

“Really?” Percy asked nonchalantly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

It didn’t take them long to find Octavian’s ship with Percy at the helm. The trireme was outfitted for battle, oars moving rhythmically and sending it flying across the waves. As Percy and Grover’s boat moved closer, Percy could see Octavian standing at the helm, thin blond hair flying and tufting about in the wind, steely, beady gaze surveying the ship moving under his command. And was that-  _ Oh God _ . It was. It was Annabeth, tied to the mast, glaring at Octavian with a death stare that should have killed him instantly.

At this point, the Romans onboard had definitely noticed them approaching. They were shouting and running about, ready-ing their weapons, and one was sprinting over to Octavian and pointing in their direction. Percy steeled himself. After all, what match is an entire trireme full of legionnaires against a son of Neptune? And Grover, of course.

As they pulled up next to the ship, Percy willed the ocean to slow their boat down. Grover tugged on the sleeve of his toga.

“Um, how do you expect us to get over-  _ whoaaaa _ .”

Wordlessly, Percy put his arm around Grover’s middle, locked his grip, and stepped off the edge of their boat. As if on cue, a giant wave rose up to meet them, propelling them up into the air and over the side of Octavian’s ship. They went flying back down onto the deck, landing painfully and barely managing to stay upright. There was a brief, tense pause when everyone stood frozen, blinking confusedly at the event of a giant wave appearing to push them onto the deck, but all was shattered when Octavian pushed through the crowd of legionnaires impatiently.

“What is the meaning of this,” he barked, hands flailing as the stunned legionnaires half-heartedly drew their gladiuses. “This ship is the fastest ship in Rome! That- that- that  _ trash heap _ ,” he sputtered, pointing at the dinghy that now creaked and floated aimlessly, bumping harmlessly into the side of the trireme, “shouldn’t have been able to catch us if Neptune himself was pushing it along!”

Ignoring the irony, Percy drew his own gladius, taking up a defensive stance. “You know why I’m here, Octavian. This has gone on long enough. I’ll go back to Rome with you. We’ll both stand before the Senate and we’ll both say our piece. But give me back Annabeth first.”

_ Lies _ , Percy knew. He’d die before he let Octavian say his piece in front of the Senate. But Octavian had the biggest bargaining chip right now, and Percy needed her back.

Octavian snorted. “Ha! You think I was born yesterday? The girl is mine,  _ Caesar _ . And as long as I have her, you’ll do  _ everything I say _ . You’ll stand and watch while I tell the Senate everything I know, oh yes. But that’s just the beginning.” Octavian waved his hands dismissively. “This charade is tiring me. Legion! Apprehend the Caesar, for treason against the glory of the Empire! He knows what he’s done. And he will face trial in Rome.”

At least twenty fully armed legionnaires stepped forward in unison, gladiuses at the ready. Percy and Grover stood back to back, the sea on one side and the soldiers on the other.

“You don’t have to do this,” Percy warned them. Silence. “Okay,” he muttered. “So we’re doing this.” He glanced over his shoulder at Grover. “You good, G-Man?”

Grover swallowed. “I mean, on the totem pole of crazy, I’d say this is like an eight. So of course.”

Percy raised his gladius over his head and charged.

Everything started to blur together. Parry. Kick. Swing. Thrust. Duck. Block. Repeat. He was vaguely aware of Grover somewhere behind him, furiously bashing a legionnaire’s helmet in with his wooden cudgel. They kept coming like a tidal wave, but the ocean gave him strength, filling him with peace and an inner reservoir of courage he didn’t know he had. He  _ had _ to get to Annabeth. That was all he knew.

He first became aware of his error when he realized that at some point in the fray, Octavian had slipped away. He stopped going on the offensive and focused on dodging and blocking, using his extra focus to search the ship.  _ A-ha _ . A few yards away, Octavian stormed towards the mast, flanked by two more legionnaires.  _ Annabeth _ .

Percy cursed, now not using his gladius at all, only running, trying to get to her before Octavian did. But the legionnaires surrounded him, forcing him back, and he watched in horror as Octavian cut the ropes binding Annabeth to the mast and the two legionnaires forced her arms behind her back and dragged her forward as she kicked and struggled.

“Percy!” she yelled, landing a particularly spectacular kick to one of the soldier’s knees and nearly breaking free as he dropped in pain.

“Annabeth!” he yelled back, kicking a legionnaire in the chest so hard he went flying overboard. “Hang on!”

Next to him, Grover thwacked another in the gut, and the soldier folded like a deck of cards. “Go!” he called to Percy. “I’ve got this!”

Percy bit his lip and looked around. The soldiers were coming in on all sides, surrounding him. He cursed, took a running start, and improvised the hell out of there. He’d only attempted this once in his life, and it hadn’t worked because Reyna had seen it coming and stood like an unimpressed statue and remained impassive while he knocked himself out by running headfirst into her armor.

This time, thank the heavens, it worked. The legionnaires formed a wall around him, so he picked one and charged, swinging his gladius out in an arc that made it look like he was going for the neck. The legionnaire reflexively dropped, bending down and even swinging his own gladius out low so as to take out Percy’s legs, as they were trained. But Percy’s swing was a fake-out. He stopped the swing mid-arc, and instead jumped up and over, effectively using his momentum to catapult himself over the legionnaire and landing on the deck a few feet away.

Percy didn’t look back. He sprinted across the deck, but by the time he got up to the helm it was too late. The legionnaires were holding Annabeth out over the edge of the water by the arms, legs dangling. Percy realized with sudden horror that they’d managed to tie her hands and feet together. A weight was tied to her chest. If they dropped her… She wouldn’t be able to swim. Nonetheless, she kicked and shouted threats and obscenities into the void. Percy slowed down abruptly, lowering his gladius and holding out his hands. “Octavian, don’t.”

Octavian snarled, eyes gleaming predatorily. The moonlight reflecting around his face made him look even more sinister than usual. “Surrender. Go back to Rome my prisoner, or you both die now.” Percy racked his brain wildly, trying to think of a way out of this that didn’t involve surrendering or something drastic. But his thoughts grew muddled as panic set in, and the desperation of feeling trapped started to overtake him.

_ SPLASH _ .

Percy’s head snapped up in alarm. Where Annabeth had been dangling a second ago, there was now only air and two legionnaires staring at each other in abject terror.

“What happened,” Octavian barked.

“I’m sorry m-m-my lord,” one stammered. “She… slipped.”

Octavian scoffed, before shrugging. “Ah, well. That’s unfortunate.” He turned to Percy, eyes still sparkling with malice. “Good thing she was only a Greek.”

Percy could hear nothing except the sound of blood rushing in his ears like a tidal wave and the feeling of his heart coming up his throat. “Annabeth,” he breathed out in a jagged whisper. Before Percy knew what he was doing, he was in the inky water right behind her. It wasn’t a rational response, it was a reflex, like he couldn’t  _ not _ save her. It wasn't logic. It was something else.

He sliced through the water cleanly and opened his eyes, not at all bothered by the saltwater. He looked around wildly. There, sinking rapidly a few feet below him and illuminated by the moonlight, was Annabeth. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open, and she wasn’t moving. He propelled himself down into the depths and gathered her in his arms, and created a jet stream that propelled him back onto the deck. He didn't even look at anyone else. All he cared about was Annabeth. He pressed his hand to her chest and concentrated, drawing out the water.

A few tense moments, and she began to cough, water bubbling up out of her mouth, eyes blinking open slowly. She looked up at him in confusion. “Percy…?” she croaked.

Percy put one arm around her back and one hand behind her head, cradling her body and pressing their foreheads together. And in that moment he swore he’d never let her go again.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Octavian all but screamed. It seemed to be his line. Percy and Annabeth both looked up, and Percy felt cold dread trickle into his stomach. The first wave he used to get him and Grover over onto the trireme could have been written off as a freak accident, a natural phenomena, a miracle of the gods. But this?

Annabeth mumbled something in his ear, and Percy turned to look at her. “What?” he asked.

“The secret,” she said weakly, her eyes somewhat glassy, which worried him. “The secret you share. It’s the debt you repay.” She pressed cold, gentle fingers to his chest. “I save you. You save me. You repaid your debt. And now...” She gestured to Octavian and everyone surrounding them. “Now they know.”

Her words thudded into him with a dull finality. The Oracle never lies. Annabeth pushed him out of the way of the mast. He saved her from drowning. And in doing so…

Percy looked deep into her eyes, and found a sense of comfort there. Gently setting her down on the deck, he stood up, feeling suddenly very, very old.

“My father is not Caesar Gabriel,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. “I am the son of Neptune.”

Octavian’s shouts of “What!” and “Impossible!” were white noise, because he was only looking at Annabeth, and she was looking up at him with a strange smile that meant he was doing something right.

Still keeping his eyes locked on hers, Percy tugged the leather greave that hadn’t left his wrist since he was twelve years old off. A three-pronged trident stood out darkly on his forearm, the skin around it stark white compared to the tan everywhere else.

Percy finally looked Octavian in the eye, proudly, with a strength that he hadn’t felt in years. “I am the son of Neptune,” he repeated. “And I am also the Emperor of Rome. No one, not even you, can change that.”

Octavian sneered, but his face was pale and his hands shook. “Once the Senate hears about this, I swear to you, you won’t be the emperor of Rome or any empire under the sun. You’ll be a dead man walking.”

Percy opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, another ship approached, moving too quickly across the water to be normal. It was smaller than the trireme, but it pulled alongside it easily and only one of its several occupants was recognizable to Percy.

“Luke,” he spat, as if cursing. The son of Mercury stood at the edge of his ship, smirking, as some of his crew pushed a board across from their ship to the other.

“Pontifex,” he said cordially, as Octavian jumped up onto the board and scrambled across. “I hope I’m here in time. Our allies warned me you might be in need of assistance.”

“Took you long enough,” Octavian snapped, but he hid behind Luke in a way that might have been comical if it weren’t for the circumstances.

Next to him, Annabeth stood up with some difficulty. “Traitor,” she seethed, and Percy put an arm around her to keep her from stumbling as she swayed forward. “Where is Thalia?”

Luke laughed and pushed the board over into the sea. “Does it matter anymore?”

Annabeth let out a small scream of rage, and Percy had to step in front of her to keep her from face planting on the deck.

Again with the same strange unnatural speed that it arrived with, the ship began to move away.

“I’ll see you in Rome, Caesar,” Octavian yelled into the wind.

Percy made to go jump into the sea and chase them down, but Annabeth pulled him back.

“What?” he snapped, a bit impatiently, eyes darting back and forth between her and the receding shape of the ship.

Annabeth shook her head sadly, although her eyes fairly glowed with the same rage Percy knew he was feeling. “Not that long till dawn. We have to get back to the Labyrinth.”

_ The Labyrinth. _

Percy cursed. He’d forgotten about that stupid maze. But Annabeth was right. The prophecy was the prophecy. And they had to see it through.

He propelled himself, Grover and Annabeth back onto the dinghy, and began propelling it back towards Crete.

He and Annabeth did have a combined flash of genius, though, which was to Iris-message Reyna and update her on the situation. They used the spray of mist coming off the back of the boat and the vague outline of a rainbow created by the moonlight on that, tossing a coin through the spray.

“O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept this offering,” Annabeth muttered, and before long the concerned face of Reyna appeared, flickering in the spray.

“Annabeth?” her voice crackled. “Are you okay?” She squinted and peered past her. “Is that Percy?”

Percy moved next to Annabeth. “No, we’re not okay,” he sighed. “Octavian is here. He found us.”

Reyna cursed. “How?”

“Luke,” Annabeth said grimly. “He was working with Octavian the whole time. And we’re not…” her voice cracked, and Percy’s heart ached. “We’re not sure what he did with Thalia. Or Leo, actually, if he ended up staying with them.”

Reyna’s face appeared years older, and Percy wasn’t sure if it was the bad connection or the news. “This is bad. This is very bad. Where are you right now?”

Percy laughed without humor. “On our way back from a rescue op. Long story. We’re going back to the Labyrinth now. We’re going to finish the quest. But the point is, Octavian and Luke are on their way to Rome right now, and they’re going to testify in front of the Senate and try and have me deposed.”

Reyna’s face contorted. “How? What do they have on you, Percy?”

Annabeth turned toward him curiously, clearly expecting an answer as well.

Percy rubbed his temples. “I don’t have time to explain, but trust me, it’s big. Not only that, but they conveniently just found out who my real dad is! So, yay me.”

Reyna groaned. “Oh, Percy.”

Percy snorted. “Yeah. So, two favors to ask. One, use your magic genius powers to keep the Senate from hearing anything from anyone until we get back from Crete. Two, if you can’t do that… Protect my mom.” At Reyna’s questioning glance, Percy grew insistent. “I know you don’t understand. But if the worst happens, you will. And please protect her. If not for her or even for me, for the legion and everything we’ve been through. As one last favor to me.”

Reyna was silent for a moment, but she nodded slowly. “Okay, Percy. I’ll rally the legion.”

She looked like she was going to say something else, but the connection fizzled, crackled and died.


End file.
